The Curse of the Winchester Women
by Silverspoon
Summary: Every woman to ever fall in love with a Winchester has paid the ultimate price; her life. Sequel to 'These Three'. A collab project. AU Season 6.
1. Chapter 1

_**Authors' Note – This fic is a collaboration between WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon. It is a sequel to our previous collab 'These Three', which can also be found on Silver's profile page. It is not entirely necessary to read that fic first but it may prove useful. **_

_**Updates will hopefully be weekly and each chapter will be written as a short story in itself to give the appearance of an alternative sixth season of the show. The chapters will be posted in either two or three parts. **_

_**Now, don't get us wrong, we adore SPN and Kripke's work; we just feel that Jo should have been along for more of the ride. **_

_**For legal purposes, we own nothing; not the characters, not the settings, not the Impala, and not those damn fine Winchester boys. **_

_**On with the show then...**_

_**Episode One – Part One**_

_**The Egg-straordinary Case of the **_

_**Killer Easter Bunny**_

_**x-x-x**_

Rebuilding the old roadhouse from the ground upwards had proven to be more hard work than attempting to wrangle a pack of rabid werewolves on a full moon. However, as Dean Winchester stared up at the impressive structure that was literally the product of his own two calloused hands, he could not help the thrill of excitement that coursed through his body. One word lingered on the tip of Dean's tongue but he did not speak it for fear of ruining the moment of mutually observed awe; _home_.

Snaking his arm around the waist of his girlfriend Jo, a self satisfied smile tugged at the corners of Dean's lips. Four months of backbreaking labour, repeatedly hitting his own thumb with a rubber mallet, and fretting over the codes for proper roof construction, all suddenly seemed worthwhile as Dean observed his achievement with beer in hand.

Jo followed his gaze and swept her brown eyes appreciatively over the newly assembled structure as Dean handed her the beer bottle. Jo paused before pressing the rim of the bottle to her lips, "Looks good."

Dean nodded, happy to meet her approval. Rebuilding her childhood home had been a labour of love for Jo and something both Winchester brothers had wanted to be involved with. Ellen Harvelle had been a fleeting yet important figure in their lives and though the majority of the blood, sweat and tears Dean had poured into the project had been for Jo's benefit, he could not help but hope that Ellen was looking down on them with something that resembled maternal pride.  
>Dean cast a sideways glance in Jo's direction and noted the furious rate at which she appeared to be blinking, clearly attempting to stem an onslaught of tears. He pulled her closer and rested his chin on her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her warm skin, "Come on, I've got a surprise for you inside."<p>

"Ok, but your pants better not come off when we walk through that door Winchester," Jo said with a smile, making a stab at humour in an effort to detract attention away from her poorly concealed sorrow. Dean smirked, momentarily surprised that the thought of 'christening' the new bar had not occurred to him, before he shook his head and seized Jo's hand.

"I'm behaving," Dean vowed, taking the lead as they climbed the freshly varnished wooden steps that lead to an impressive metal studded old saloon style door. Jo paused in order to lay her hand against the timber and, before moving so much as an inch further, she shot a glance at the rapidly growing oak sapling that she had planted around five months ago.

The still immature tree seemed to have grown feet since having first been instated in the grounds of Harvelle's Roadhouse and Jo could not help but think that perhaps her parents had something to do with that fact. Ellen had indeed been a nurturing soul and so it made sense to Jo that she would continue that legacy even in death. The tree had been planted for Ellen after all, as a kind of remembrance to the woman when a grave site had proved impossible. On the days where her longing for her mother became too unbearable, Jo would head out into the yard and sit beside the sapling. Sometimes she would simply draw comfort from resting her hand against the trunk and, other times, she would talk to the tree as though it were Ellen herself. Dean had witnessed this on several occasions but had not interrupted for fear of upsetting Jo. Instead, he had approached his concerns with Sam who in his characteristic Oprah-style wisdom had declared that Jo's actions were a natural part of the grieving process for someone who was not quite as emotionally stunted as Dean. Having failed to formulate a suitable retort to that, Dean had simply 'accidentally' knocked Sammy across the back of the head with a plank of two-by-four. However, he had at least been satisfied that Jo was coming to terms with her mother's death.

Dean stepped back as Jo finally crossed the threshold of the bar and he waited with baited breath for her gaze to land upon the object in question. Her eyes widened in surprise and a beaming smile lit up her face. She crossed the floor in barely two strides as she spied the old fashioned upright in the corner of the room and let out a gasp. She slid her palms slowly across the wooden casing of the jukebox in an almost reverent fashion and let her head drop back against Dean's shoulder as he moved to stand behind her and clasped his hands over her waist.  
>"Dean... oh my God..." she grinned in disbelief, reaching up and placing her palm against his cheek. Despite his previous claims of disdain for all things romantic and his 'man-whoring' past as Jo liked to describe it, the last five months with Dean had allowed Jo to see just how much he had grown emotionally; and exactly how caring and attentive he could be. She suspected that sometimes he even surprised himself.<p>

"F7," Dean directed, responding to her quizzical glance with a grin. Jo pressed the relevant buttons and waited with furrowed brow for the music to start. A quiet whirring noise overtook the silence of the bar before the melody of a familiar song filled the room with sudden life.

"Dean," breathed Jo, delight dancing in her eyes as she listened to the lazy voice of REO Speedwagon singing a familiar ballad. "I can't believe you stooped this low just for me."

Dean chuckled and rested one hand on Jo's shoulder, remaining quiet as together they drank in the appearance of the revitalised bar. Rather than attempt to recreate the old roadhouse faithfully, Sam and Dean had opted to restore those things they new that Jo had loved, and improve upon those that she had not. After all, the new roadhouse was the sole property of the surviving Harvelle now, and so the ultimate result should be one that pleased her alone.

Dean noted the line of spirit bottles placed in neat rows behind the mahogany bar that Sam had constructed, and the collection of old photographs that Bobby had given to Jo that were now framed and adorning every available wall. The photographs had been left at Bobby's house in a worn old album by Ellen for safe keeping. Most depicted the Harvelle family both before and after Jo's birth. Surprisingly, Dean found that he had enjoyed pouring over the images with Jo, who had been reduced to both hysterical laughter and gut-wrenching sobs whilst sorting through them.

An enormous pool table had been reinstated to one corner of the bar along with a dart board, both of which were brand new and had yet to have a single game played upon them. The tables and chairs had been replaced with high back stools and tables of matching height that were nailed to the floor purely for safety reasons. As well as having anticipated the odd demon attack, Dean also knew how hunters got when the fire of too much liquor burned in their bellies, and he had no desire to be rebuilding furniture every fortnight.

Jo turned her head as she felt Dean tap her on the shoulder and she arched an eyebrow in surprise as he opened his arms to gesture that she should dance with him. Although secretly delighted, Jo's smile was suspicious as she moved into Dean's waiting embrace and looped her arms around his neck. Dean ignored the amused smirk and pulled Jo's body flush against his, revelling in the feel of her warm skin beneath his fingertips as he slipped his hand under her shirt to rest on the small of her back.

Jo giggled in bemusement and pressed her lips to his ear in a whisper, "Christo!"  
>"Yeah, yeah," Dean said with a smirk. He rolled his eyes, continuing to sway Jo gently to the music. Her head fell to rest against his shoulder and her eyes closed against his ministrations.<br>"Dean Winchester, I think you're a closet romantic," she accused, her smile widening in unabashed delight.

Dean appeared to think this over momentarily before he brushed a kiss against her cheek and held her that much tighter, "Only with you sweetheart. Only with you."

"I have to say I kind of like it," drawled Jo, giggling as Dean twirled her around underneath his arm before pulling her back towards his chest. She found that the way her body fit so snugly against his was comforting, as was the feel of his arms around her.

Dean opened his mouth to reply but was immediately silenced as Jo sealed her lips against his own, stealing a kiss that Dean melted so willingly into. Jo flicked the tip of her tongue into his mouth and Dean let out a murmur of both pleasure and contentment. The kiss melted away after several seconds and the couple drew apart, Dean now breathing somewhat heavily.

"Thank you Dean, for everything you and Sam have done here," said Jo in earnest, eyes sweeping Dean's features now, "you don't know how much this all means to me."

Dean simply nodded, finding that the sorrow, pain and also happiness that flitted across Jo's features in such quick succession were too much for the lump in his throat to overcome.

"There's just one thing missing now," Jo continued, stepping away from Dean but allowing their hands to remain interlaced as the song came to a natural end and the jukebox shut itself off.

"Then I guess once the new sign's up, we're open for business," she mused, scanning the bar and imagining herself standing there behind it, bantering with the regulars and keeping a watchful eye over the patrons, just like her mother had done before her.

Dean nodded in silent agreement, allowing her to drag him behind the bar where she fussed over straightening the photographs on the wall.  
>"We should probably start looking for someone to look after this place when we're gone," Dean thought aloud, realising that a new hunt could come up at any given time and that having a caretaker of sorts for the roadhouse would be a good idea.<br>Jo glanced down diplomatically at the ground and pointedly avoided his gaze, "Yeah, about that..."

Dean narrowed his eyes as he watched her feign sudden interest in the new wooden flooring. The hesitation he detected in her tone caused his heart to pound in dread.

"You changed your mind about coming on the road with us?" he tried not to sound disappointed and failed miserably.  
>"No," Jo looked up sharply and shook her head to emphasize her words, "No. I just... I don't want to get between you and Sam. You're family and I don't want to get in the way of that."<p>

"Jo, you're family too," said Dean softly, pausing to push a tendril of blonde hair that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ear. Jo nodded, chewing on her bottom lip and still wearing a fretful expression that Dean knew no amount of assuaging could dispel.

"Sam loves you," he reiterated, screwing up his nose as he realised that his proclamation had come out all wrong. He amended quickly, "In a strictly platonic kind of guy way."

"Smooth," quipped Jo, placing her hands on her hips as she regarded Dean but unable to prevent a smile from overtaking her now. "I just want you to be sure it'll work."

"It will work," Dean vowed, stepping closer to Jo and gathering both of her hands up in his own. He raised them to chest height and brushed a gentle kiss against the back of each of her hands as he murmured, "What could possibly go wrong?"

**x-x-x**

_**Connecticut**_

_**April 18th 2011**_

With her need for caffeine mounting with every second that ticked by, Julia Harris steered her five year old daughter towards the crowd of assembled children with a firm hand.

"Now, do as Mrs. Johnson tells you, okay sweetie?" she bent down and adjusted her daughter's party dress, re-tying the powder blue sash around her waist. A bright pink basket was held aloft and the little girl grabbed hold of it excitedly, clutching it to her chest with hands that were too small to properly encompass the handle.

"Yes, Mommy," the child lisped, her eyes wide and full of wonder at the impending Easter egg hunt. She eyed the other children carefully before spying one of her classmates and, with a beaming smile, she tore away from her mother. Emma skipped over to join her playmate and the two little girls immediately joined hands. Their simultaneous grins in her direction all but melted Julia's heart and she returned their smiles as they each waved in her direction.

"No candy before lunch, Emma, okay?" she felt compelled to remind her daughter, although the unchecked glee radiating in her little girl's expression could not help but broaden her already beaming smile.

"Sure, Mommy," Emma agreed dutifully, swinging her friend's hand as the children fought to stave off their excitement. They watched impatiently as the final baskets were handed out to their contemporaries.

"I'll be right here, baby girl- have fun!" Julia laughed as the proprietor of the hunt unleashed the children upon her extensive grounds and they ran off in zigzagging directions, all eager to uncover the treasures that lay hidden in the garden.

"I don't know how you do it, Beth," Julia admonished, awe struck by the organisational skills of her neighbour and best friend. Beth merely shrugged and eased herself into the neighbouring chair, resting her hands on her significantly rounded stomach.

"Oh, I like to stay busy, you know that," Beth dismissed her friend's praise and shot a distracted glance over at her toddler son who sat in a sand box a mere few yards away. "Tyler, what has mommy told you about eating sand?" Beth sighed and the two women exchanged amused smiles.  
>"Do you and Carl ever think about having another one?" Beth arched an eyebrow, reaching to the table beside her and pouring two tall glasses of homemade lemonade.<br>Julia glanced down discretely at her lap and simply shrugged, her smile not quite reaching her eyes as she met Beth's gaze, "We're just enjoying Emma right now and Carl works long hours at the bank and the store's really starting to take off..."

She gratefully accepted the lemonade and took a sip of the cool liquid, gesturing over toward the back porch of the house.

"You re-upholstered your chairs?"

"Oh yeah," Beth replied, suddenly coming to life with enthusiasm as she began to talk in an almost comically breathy rush about the exquisite fabric she had managed to secure at a bargain price. Julia listened dutifully, nodding and smiling at the appropriate intervals as Beth talked, her hands illustrating her point for her every few seconds. After a while, the two women quickly forgot about the fourteen neighbourhood children that milled around them, becoming fully immersed in their own conversation.

Emma hung slightly back from the other children, having lost her companion to a little boy several years older than her who already had a basket laden with discovered treats. She was a timid child by nature and often preferred to shy away from larger groups, despite her mother's gentle cajoling. No amount of ballet classes or girl-guide camps had succeeded in improving the five year olds confidence, and Emma found herself often more at ease in the company of animals.

Therefore, when the pure snow white rabbit hopped into her peripheral vision and reared up on its hind legs, a delighted toothy grin broke out across Emma's face.

"Hey bunny," the child crooned, bending down and extending her hand towards the rabbit. Its nose and ears both simultaneously twitched, but the animal made no move either towards or away from the child. Emma held her breath, and took a few hesitant steps on her tiptoes towards the rabbit, which remained rooted to the spot.

The animal scratched at it's nose before dropping back onto all fours and bounding toward a large rabbit hole that seemed to appear in the ground as if from nowhere. The creature paused and waited for the enthralled child to follow, pink nose twitching invitingly. Emma turned back one final time in the direction of the house and then glanced towards the rabbit. Discarding her egg basket, she skipped off toward the fluffy creature and giggled as it wiggled its way down into the rabbit hole, only to disappear from view.

A blue ribbon flapped gently in the breeze, suspended on a branch nearby, and brightly coloured Easter eggs lay scattered in the flower borders below; but little Emma Harris was nowhere to be found.

**x-x-x**

"Place looks great, Sam, you kids have done a fine job," Bobby eyed the frontage of the roadhouse and tipped his baseball cap in approval, "Ellen would be proud."  
>Sam nodded, helping manoeuvre Bobby's wheelchair up the ramp that he and Dean had constructed with him in mind.<p>

"Damn thing," Bobby muttered, sighing as the back wheel caught on the door jam and he slammed his hand down in frustration on the armrest of the chair.

Sam smiled weakly in sympathy, wondering how he would ever cope if he was in Bobby's situation. The older hunter tried not to let the afflictions life had thrown at him get him down, yet every now and then his anger at his own limitations became very evident and Sam could hardly blame him. Bobby propelled the chair through the doorway and stopped dead as he eyed the scene around him and looked back at Sam in concern.

"Guys?" Sam called, stepping into the roadhouse behind Bobby and surveying the empty bar with suspicion. Something clearly was not right with the picture. When he had left, Dean and Jo had been industriously caught up in hanging light fixtures and setting out glasses behind the bar, finalising any last minute touches as and when Jo dreamt them up. From the looks of things, their projects had all been hastily abandoned.

"Guys?" he called again, frowning as he heard voices coming from the area behind the bar and a few moments later, a sheepish and somewhat dishevelled Dean appeared. Sam bit back a smirk and simply rewarded his brother with a disdainful sigh, one he found himself repeating when Jo finally emerged, looking equally as guilty as she fastened the top buttons of her shirt.

"We were just uh... we were..." Dean began, mouth gaping as he tried to hastily come up with a suitable excuse.

"Taking inventory," Jo supplied, clearing her throat in an attempt to detract Sam and Bobby's knowing gazes as a blush rose up her cheeks.

"If that's what you kids are calling it these days," said Bobby gruffly, ignoring the snort that Dean directed at him. "Now, which one of you lazy bums is going to fix your first patron a drink?"

"Sure thing Bobby," Dean replied, only too glad to be leaping into action in the wake of being discovered in such a compromising position. Dean was suddenly halted however by the splayed palm that Jo thrust into his chest.

"No!" she yelped, her eyes widening as she shook her head at Bobby. "Sorry, but no one gets even a sniff of liquor from this bar before that sign is up."

"Aw come on Jo," Bobby griped, rubbing one hand along his grizzled jaw line. "A guy could die of thirst over here."

"Water," Jo replied tartly, "you can have a glass of water."

"With whisky in it?" Bobby attempted, his eyes gleaming wickedly.

"With water in it," was Jo's sardonic reply.

"You're a cruel woman, Harvelle," Bobby sighed, rolling his eyes as she slammed a glass of water down on the counter and placed her hands on her hips.  
>"Ice and lemon?" she smirked, arching an eyebrow as she awaited his response.<br>Bobby sneered in disgust at the water and gripped the wheels of his chair, moving himself back from the bar and in the direction of one of the empty booths.  
>"I got something to show you comedians," Bobby announced, producing a rolled up file from inside his jacket pocket, which he slammed down on the table as he waited patiently for the three younger hunters to congregate.<p>

Dean stepped out from behind the bar and immediately Sam averted his gaze.

"Uh... dude," he widened his eyes and cleared his throat, smiling until Dean eventually caught on and zipped up the fly of his jeans.  
>"Seriously man, it's three o'clock in the afternoon," Sam complained, his head turning sharply as Jo sauntered past.<br>"I get bored easily," she interjected, shrugging as Sam's mouth dropped open. A lascivious smirk settled on Dean's face and he glanced appreciatively in her direction before flashing his brother an entirely smug smile.

"I'm in hell," Sam mumbled, taking a seat opposite his brother and Jo, and waiting for Bobby to explain the details of what he assumed to be a new case.

"Alright, what we got then Bobby?" Dean asked, leaning forwards and rubbing his palms together. It had been quite some time since the trio had been on a genuine hunt. The building of the new roadhouse had occupied most of their time recently and, save for a few straightforward salting and burnings, Dean had not seen much action on the hunting front for several months now. He was anticipating getting back on the road in a sense, although he was secretly thrilled to now have a home base to share in with both Jo and his brother. It had been assumed rather than discussed at any length that both Sam and Dean would also reside at the roadhouse when not travelling, and that Jo would accompany them on the majority of cases. They had fallen into the agreement easily and all were hopeful that this fact boded well for the success of their venture.

"A five year old girl was snatched in broad daylight from a neighbour's house in Connecticut last Sunday," said Bobby, sliding the paper file across the table top to Dean, who flipped it open only to be greeted by a newspaper clipping complete with a black and white photograph of a grinning child.

"That seems more like a matter for the local fuzz than us," Dean replied, pausing to scan the article which did not immediately set alarm bells ringing in his head. He wondered why it had done so with Bobby, but refrained from asking for the moment.

"A second child was nabbed the day before in a town ten miles from that one," answered Bobby, taking a sip of his water which he found to be tepid and screwing up his nose. "They were both on Easter egg hunts at the time."

"So there's a lot of sick people out there," Jo said, her tone somewhat bitter as she peered over Dean's shoulder at the photograph of the little girl. She could not begin to imagine what her parents would be going through, and nor did she wish to try. It seemed that the more Jo lived of the hunter's life, the more she became put off the prospect of one day having her own children. She wondered how those hunters who had become parents, including her own, had managed to sleep at night with the knowledge in their heads of everything that was out there just waiting to snatch up their children.

"I'm with Jo on this one, there's plenty of perverse sons of bitches just waiting to grab a kid," Dean agreed, shrugging unwillingly as he added, "unfortunately, those guys don't fall within our remit."  
>Bobby ignored him and tossed a large photograph down on the table. Jo frowned, turning her head from side to side to decipher the image as suitably horrified expressions formed on both Dean and Sam's faces.<br>"Is that..." Jo began with clear uncertainty, pausing and glancing up at Sam and Dean in turn as they simultaneously groaned. Sam leant back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest, whilst Dean rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and eyed Bobby suspiciously.  
>"Please tell me we're not hunting Roger Rabbit?" Dean stared down at the crime scene photograph that appeared to show a giant twelve inch animal track, and he was certain that he felt a little bit of his soul die; not giant stuffed animals, not again.<p>

"I gotta confess," Bobby stated, the hint of a smile twitching beneath his beard, "I've never seen anything quite like this before."

"Cursed wishing well?" Sam inquired with a sigh, shooting Dean a significant glance that only succeeded in leaving Jo baffled. She placed her hands on her hips and arched a thin blonde eyebrow as she turned to survey Dean, who had lowered his head into his hands.

"Only one way to find out," was the muffled reply from Dean, who had evidently been hoping for anything but the case at hand. Jo remained clueless but decided that the guys could fill her in on the finer details on the car ride to Connecticut.

"Well, saddle up boys," said Jo, a wide smile breaking out across her face as she clapped Sam on the shoulder in her excitement. "We got us our first case!"


	2. Chapter 2

_**Authors' Note – Once again, we own nothing, aside from the crazy notion that a rampant Easter bunny would be a good idea. **_

_**Episode One – Part Two**_

_**The Egg-straordinary Case of the **_

_**Killer Easter Bunny**_

_**x-x-x**_

Exiting their unfortunately shared motel room, Sam closed the door behind him and held up his hand to his sibling by way of warning.  
>" I don't wanna talk about it." Sam dismissed his brother's attempt at speaking and slipped on a pair of aviators that he produced from his suit pocket.<br>"Seriously, dude," Dean guffawed, frowning at his brother's apparent issue with them having to share a motel room. Since the roadhouse was not currently making any money and all their pooled resources had gone into the rebuilding project, times were hard and corners had to be cut where possible, "I think Jo and I can control ourselves for the next twenty-four hours. Geez, we're not animals."

Sam shrugged in unwilling agreement, although as Jo emerged from the room mere seconds later he felt his point more than suitably proven. Wearing an identical pair of aviator sunglasses and a no-nonsense business suit, she strode past the two brothers leaving Dean gawking open mouthed in her direction.  
>"Yeah," Sam nodded, blowing out a grounding breath as he patted his brother on the shoulder and strode off after Jo.<p>

For once, Dean allowed Sam to drive his beloved Impala without first delivering his usual vehement protests. Sam figured that his brother was simply striving to calm the waters following his earlier displeasure at arriving at the motel, and discovering that the three would be cohabiting in the one room. Whilst Sam understood the need for them to veer away from fake credit cards and 'borrowed' cash if they hoped to make a go of the roadhouse business, he wished that on just this one occasion they could make an exception.

The Impala slowed to a crawl along the curb side as they located the Harris house, and Sam brought the car to a standstill in front of a large, white washed colonial - the very epitome of traditional New England architecture.

Jo stared at the house in awe, noting how the entire street had seemed like something from a spread in Good Housekeeping; not that she read Good Housekeeping, but the Norman Rockwell-esque image the street conjured up was not lost on her.  
>"Wow," she breathed, her eyes sweeping the expanse of the grounds. She sighed quietly at the sight of a child's pink tricycle in the front yard, its handlebars strewn with garishly hued ribbons that she imagined most five year old girls would adore.<p>

"Why do I feel like I'm in an episode of Desperate Housewives?" Sam frowned, watching as blinds and curtains twitched in the windows of neighbouring properties and passing pedestrians eyed the car suspiciously.  
>Dean snorted derisively as he opened the car door, "Yeah, well it's better than an episode of the Muppet show."<p>

Dean was hoping against hope that their days as professional teddy bear doctors were behind them and, whilst it was a cute story that Jo had enjoyed on the car journey north, it was a case that Dean had no desire to repeat. Personally, he preferred it when the targets of their hunts were fanged, scaly or some other description that could be joined comfortably with the word 'terrifying'.

"Right, you guys go talk to the Mom and I guess I'll go search for signs of Thumper," Dean said, his distress at the very prospect of encountering a giant rabbit evident. Discreetly, he slipped a handgun into a holster that was concealed by his jacket and strode off in the direction of the neighbouring home.

Sam arched an eyebrow in questioning as he felt Jo's eyes upon him, and a quick glance found her staring at him with an amused look playing across her features.

"You watch Desperate Housewives?" she inquired, her head cocked to one side and her arms folded across her white blouse.

Sam wracked his brain, trying to think up an acceptable excuse, but instead decided to deflect her attention to his brother, "Dean watches 'Dr. Sexy MD'."  
>Jo appeared to think this over momentarily and then a grin settled on her face as she clambered out of the back of the Impala, "I love that show!"<br>Sam's eyebrows shot up in a strange mixture of surprise and awe. It often amazed him how similar Jo and Dean were, not merely in temperament, but also in their more general likes and dislikes. Sometimes he found it hard to believe that a cupid had not been involved in somehow uniting the pair, yet it was times like these that reminded him how entirely likely it was that they had simply fallen for each other.

"Sam? You coming?" Jo tapped her foot impatiently on the sidewalk and waited for him to join her. She elbowed him playfully as they strolled across the front yard of the house, "I watch Desperate Housewives too. Just don't tell Dean."

She grinned and rolled her eyes at her own embarrassment. Sam could not help but smile at the buoyant energy behind her eyes. He understood why his brother appeared to care for Jo so deeply. Undoubtedly she had been good for Dean, bringing out a softer side that not many were privy to. Sam was at a loss to remember a time when his brother had been happier.

"I'm glad you're hunting with us, Jo," Sam dug his hands in his pockets and stared down at the grass beneath their feet, "and I'm happy Dean's got you. I really am."

A blush rose up her cheeks and she drew to a halt before the steps of the front porch, "Me too." She paused for a moment, appearing to deliberate over her words, "I know how close you and Dean are, and I just want you to know that I'd never try to come between you guys. Whatever Dean and I are or whatever we will be, I know he'll always need his brother around."

Sam smiled in response, before indicating the door with a slight inclination of his head. Jo nodded, taking a deep breath and then replacing her goofy grin with a suitably sober expression; it would not do to greet a grieving parent with a less than sympathetic air. First removing his sunglasses and then slipping them into his breast pocket, Sam rapped gently on the front door. Almost immediately the door was flung open, and a tall, thin woman peered at the strangers on her step with an expression of unmasked hope. Her features suddenly clouded as she failed to recognise either Sam or Jo, but took in their formal attire and professional demeanours nonetheless. Jo noted that the woman's blue eyes were puffy and red, and her entire face had the swollen appearance that comes from too much crying. She felt an immediate pang of sympathy for the woman, who seemed so desolate.

"Mrs. Harris?" Sam inquired, already reaching into his inner pocket for his much used fake ID. At his side, Jo was doing likewise. "My name is Special Agent Tyler, and this is Agent Perry. We're with the FBI. We'd like to ask you a couple of questions about your daughter's disappearance, if we may."

Sam posed his words as more of a statement than a question, giving the impression that there was little room for argument.

"Have you found her?" Mrs. Harris demanded, swinging the front door open wider now and taking a step forwards. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and her clothes had the appearance of ones that had been worn and slept in for a number of days.

"Unfortunately, not yet," Jo said, her voice gentle and soothing. "We'll just take up a few minutes of your time."

The woman nodded, stepping back from the door and ushering them into the house. She led them to the living room and gestured for them to be seated on the couch. She perched on the edge of an armchair and produced a Kleenex from her sleeve, which she began to wring in her hands.

Jo noticed how her hands trembled and she knew that despite all she had experienced as a hunter, this woman's fear was more palpable than anything she had had to deal with.  
>"Mrs. Harris... I know this is difficult for you," Sam began, unfortunately well-versed in dealing with distraught relatives, "you took your daughter to an Easter egg hunt, is that right?"<p>

He produced a pad from his pocket and began flicking through the pages of hastily scrawled notes.  
>"Yes," Julia nodded, her gaze flitting between his face and the tissue in her hands, "my neighbour... she's uh, she's one of my closest friends. She organised an Easter egg hunt for the children."<p>

Her composure slipped and she blinked as tears tripped her cheeks, "Emma was really excited." Her smile was faint as she recalled her daughter's glee at attending the event.  
>Jo plucked a tissue from the box of Kleenex on the table beside her and handed it to the woman, "I know this is hard for you Mrs. Harris, but is there anything unusual you may have noticed lately? A car parked out on the street or a stranger calling at the house? Anything at all that seemed out of the ordinary."<p>

Whilst they were fairly certain the perpetrator was of the supernatural variety, it was also important to rule out crimes of any other nature.  
>"No, nothing," Julia shook her head, dabbing at her eyes and shooting Jo a brief smile of thanks.<p>

"Do you know of anyone that would take Emma to get back at you or your husband?" Sam pressed, wincing at the apparent insensitivity of his own question but knowing regardless that it had to be asked. Mrs. Harris shook her head vehemently and her gaze drifted to a photograph that sat on the mantle of a blonde haired man cuddling the little girl in his arms. Jo quickly scanned the room whilst the woman's eyes were averted, noting the neutral decor that was interspaced with numerous child's paintings. A doll lay abandoned on the seat of the armchair and Mrs. Harris reached for it wordlessly, clutching the toy to her chest and threading her fingers through its woollen hair.

"Is Emma the type of child that may wander off?" inquired Jo, shooting a significant glance at Sam as she noted several of the pictures hanging from the walls were crayon drawings of a beaming white rabbit.

"No, she knows not to do that, or to talk to strangers," Mrs. Harris replied with firm confidence resonating in her voice. She crumpled a little as she added, "I just don't understand it. One minute she was there, and the next she was gone."

"Did either you or your husband argue with Emma before her disappearance?" Sam continued, drawing a line through each question that Dean had earmarked on the notepad as it was answered.

"Not really," Mrs. Harris shrugged, growing momentarily quiet as she appeared to contemplate something. "There was just one thing. It was silly really. It probably means nothing."

"Go on, Mrs. Harris," Jo encouraged, leaning forwards a little and resting a gentle hand on the woman's knee, "anything no matter how insignificant it may seem could make all the difference."

"She wanted a pet," Mrs. Harries finally offered with a rueful sigh, "a rabbit. She kept talking about this white rabbit that she insisted she played with in the garden. One time she even claimed it came into her room. She wanted to keep it."

"But you never saw a rabbit?" asked Jo, maintaining a neutral expression. Mrs. Harris shook her head and fresh tears sprang to her eyes, brimming over her lids and beginning to trickle down her pale cheeks.

"She wouldn't run away," the woman insisted, her voice emerging as a hoarse whisper, "Emma's never been good at making friends and she hates to be alone. I just keep thinking of her, out there somewhere, terrified..."

"Would it be okay with you if we took a look around Emma's room?" Sam enquired, as he and Jo climbed to their feet and waited for a response.  
>"Yes, yes of course," Julia nodded, closing her eyes momentarily as her gaze settled on her daughter's photograph and a lump formed in her throat, "second door on the right. I uh... I can't go in there right now, so if you wouldn't mind..."<br>"Of course, we understand," Jo smiled at her kindly before the two hunters made their way upstairs to the child's bedroom.

Sam opened the door they had been directed to and his eyes immediately widened as he took in the princess themed room, complete with a bubble gum pink canopy over a white four poster bed.

Jo stepped hesitantly over the threshold, taking note of the various toys, games and books scattered around. Yet her gaze became solely focused on the photograph frame sitting on a nearby shelf. The word 'family' was etched into the silver guilt and the picture inside it proudly exhibited a newborn Emma, held carefully between her delighted parents. Other photographs lay dotted about the shelf, mostly of Emma at various ages from infancy until present day.

Jo reached out and picked up a small pink frame, with the words 'my first picture' emblazoned across the top. She narrowed her eyes as she attempted to decipher the sonogram image before quickly returning it to the shelf, suddenly feeling that she were somehow intruding on the family's privacy.

"This is one pampered little girl," Sam remarked, baffled by the amount of stuff one five year old could possibly need. Jo nodded in agreement but her gaze was elsewhere as Sam continued to examine the room for any signs of the supernatural. He produced an EMF metre from his jacket and twiddled the various dials. The metre clicked obligingly but the needle refused to jump even a fraction.

Jo crouched down on the floor and began picking at something that had caught her attention amidst the beige carpet. Frowning, Jo sat back on her heels, holding between her thumb and forefinger a sizeable chunk of snow-white fur.

**x-x-x**

Dean had entered the yard with ease having found an open gate to oblige him. Hearing voices in the general vicinity of the front of the house, Dean stuck to the cover of the many trees and leafy foliage that surrounded the perimetre of the garden.

His gaze took in the coloured streamers and balloons hanging at intervals, that he surmised were left over from the festivities of the weekend.

In stark contrast to the pastel coloured crepe paper, the crime scene tape remained tattered on the lawn and Dean sighed heavily as he realised that yet another kid's life had been robbed of the innocence of childhood. The cases involving children were always the hardest and he wondered if he would ever feel brave enough to contemplate having children of his own, knowing full well what evils awaited them in the world.

He crouched down to the ground as he spied the shell of a shattered Easter egg and followed a trail of similarly broken, painted eggs to an adjacent flower border.  
>"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" With an incredulous groan, he squinted at the large imprint in the dirt and, retrieving his cell phone from his pocket, he placed a pen on the ground beside the animal track and snapped a picture.<br>The trail ended there, with no other sign of their suspect or thankfully the victim. As he made a hasty exit from the back yard, Dean could not shake the feeling that things were about to become a whole lot more surreal than usual.

**x-x-x**

"So what have we got?" said Dean, biting into the cheeseburger he clutched in his hand with vehemence. It had been almost two hours since Dean had last eaten and he was famished. Jo wrinkled her nose as a splodge of ketchup dropped onto the evidence that was spread on the table before Dean. Tutting in annoyance, Sam grabbed the photographs and hastily wiped them over with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Two missing kids, a pile of fur, one hell of a footprint, and then nada," Jo recited, running her fingers through her hair and sighing. She hated it when a case appeared to be getting the better of her, and at the moment there was nothing about the current case that she could make a lick of sense out of.

"Sam, we got any common denominators with the kids or the families?" Dean enquired, shooting a glance at Sam who now sat cross-legged on the bed as he hunkered over his laptop. His tongue protruded ever so slightly from the edge of his mouth as he concentrated on the screen, tapping away at the keys without glancing at Dean.

"So far, a couple," he admonished, frowning as he wondered how best to narrow down the list of impossibly long links. "Both female, only children, both born at the same hospital, both A positive, both..."

"Ok, ok, I get the picture," said Dean through a mouthful of chewed burger. Jo reached across the table and deftly snatched a handful of fries, before beginning to gnaw on them thoughtfully. Like Dean, she found that she often thought better on a full stomach.

"And both snatched from Easter egg Hunts, so... what the hell does that leave us with?" Jo frowned, screwing up her nose and shaking her head as Dean offered her a bite of his burger, "the Easter Bunny's gone postal?"  
>"Don't..." Dean swallowed a mouthful of food and waved his finger at her in warning, "don't even kid about stuff like that."<p>

Jo sniggered at his response and peered with interest at the various boxes and wrappers strewn in front of him. She selected an onion ring and bit into it thoughtfully, "So, what do we do now? We can't just wait for another kid to get grabbed."

Dean shook his head, screwing up the wrapper from his burger and tossing it haphazardly onto the table.

"Well, clearly we're missing something here. Because so far all we got is a couple of missing kids and one big ass rabbit... there's got to be something else."  
>"You think it's a demon?" Sam frowned, suddenly glancing up from his computer.<br>Jo stood from her chair and sidled around the table, absently planting her hand on Dean's shoulder as she paused behind him and stared at the photographs.  
>"Question is what would a demon want with a couple of five year olds?" Jo practically shuddered as she considered the possibilities and quickly tried to dismiss the thought from her head. She accepted another onion ring that Dean passed back to her and perched herself on the edge of the chair beside him, commandeering a sachet of ketchup which she liberally smeared over the food. Sam's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he bit back a smile as he watched them; Dean Winchester sharing food? It had to be love.<p>

"I don't know, this all seems too..." Dean trailed off, unable to think of a suitable adjective to insert into his intended sentence. "I just don't think it's demonic."

Jo shrugged and paused to turn on the television that sat atop one of the rickety looking dressers that decorated the room. The screen flickered to life after a moment or two, and then a grainy picture appeared. Jo began flipping through the channels, not pausing on any one truly long enough to register what was showing.

"We could go on a stake-out?" Sam suggested, glancing up from his laptop suddenly. "There's a whole bunch of Easter egg hunts planned in the surrounding towns right up until next Saturday. Surely this thing has to make an appearance at one of them."

"Right, cos three adults turning up at an Easter egg hunt with guns to watch the kiddies have fun... that's not gonna arouse any suspicions," Jo quipped, rolling her eyes good naturedly at Sam, who grinned in response.

"Yeah, maybe not," Sam chuckled and returned to his research, trying to ignore the mash-up of voices and music that Jo's persistent channel surfing was causing.  
>Dean winced as his eyes attempted desperately to focus on the screen and he glanced somewhat testily at his girlfriend, "Jo... sweetheart, you're making me a little nauseous here."<br>Jo sighed and finally settled on a local news station as Dean reached out and pulled her gently into his lap. He folded his arms around her hips and pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek as she stared engrossed at the two news anchors that appeared to be discussing a fashion show for dogs.  
>"Now that is scary," Jo remarked, gesturing to the TV and looking back at Dean who nodded in agreement. She frowned at the serious expression on his face and instantly dissolved into laughter as he gently cupped the back of her head and pulled her into a lingering kiss.<p>

Sam glanced up from his laptop and rolled his eyes as he watched them, before diplomatically averting his gaze to the TV screen as the couple brazenly flouted rule number one of Sam's 'room sharing ground rules'.

He suddenly frowned as the anchor began to relay a breaking news item. Sam moved across the room to turn up the volume, "Guys? Uh... guys? We got another one."

Dean and Jo broke away from the clinch in order to focus their attentions on the screen, and Sam was mildly impressed by their ability to remain professional. A picture of a toddler flashed up on the screen and Jo let out a sad sigh.

"Well that rules out one of the common denominators," she noted, her ears straining to pick up the anchorwoman's words.

"_Two and a half year old Josh Danforth was abducted from his grandmother's house in Bethlehem at ten thirty this morning. Josh and his three older cousins had been enjoying an Easter egg hunt organised by their grandparents when the toddler wandered from view, and suddenly disappeared. Josh was wearing a red t-shirt and a pair of denim dungarees. Police are appealing to anyone in the area who may have information regarding his whereabouts..."_

Jo picked up the television remote and flicked the power button before the station played the video taped plea that Josh's parents had earlier recorded.

"So we got a different age, and different sex now," Dean mused, reaching for the notepad and beginning to scrawl down the details of the new case. "None of which fits the previous pattern."

"Except for the Easter egg hunt part," Jo supplied with a helpful smile.

"I'll run the kids details and see what else comes up," Sam suggested with a heavy sigh, rubbing at his eyes as the words on the laptop screen began to blur and merge together as a result of his fatigue. Hunting was indeed an exhausting job, but Sam could not imagine himself doing anything else now.

Jo hopped down from Dean's knee and picked up her cell phone, mentally reciting her 'I'm a reporter from a local newspaper' speech in preparation for calling the Bethlehem police department.

Dean picked up the map from the table and unfolded a further section. He spread it out across the table, picking up a red pen and marking the site of the most recent abduction with a cross. He stared down at the three seemingly unrelated areas, finding no patterns or central points to draw on.

"You got anything on this new kid yet?" he asked Sam, watching his brother's face as Sam flicked with apparent disinterest through the records he had been able to hack.  
>Sam shrugged, blowing out a slow breath as he tried to find some key point that tied this child to the other two.<br>"Okay, well... aside from the obvious differences, he's not an only child, he's got a little sister... adopted eight months ago," Sam relayed, pausing as he finally found a tenuous link, "although it looks like he was born in the same hospital as the other two kids."

"Could be a noteworthy starting point I guess," Dean replied, his expression clearly one of scepticism.

"Why would three kids who lived that far apart all be born in the same hospital?" asked Jo, pausing momentarily in her task of punching a phone number in to her cell. Sam grimaced before searching out the name of the hospital on the Google page before him.

Sam shrugged and tapped at the keys once again, before a pensive expression overtook his features.

"The Hospital of Central Connecticut," Sam read, drumming his fingertips against his knee.

"Do you think it matters?" Jo pondered, clearly undecided as to whether the discovery was significant to the case or not. Dean shrugged and Sam failed to respond at all, lost in the information that filled the screen of the laptop.

"Maybe we should talk to this kid's parents," Dean finally suggested, and both Sam and Jo nodded their agreement. Less than half an hour later, the group were suitably dressed and assembled at the Impala.

**x-x-x**

"Mrs. Danforth, is there anything you can tell us that might help us locate your son?" Dean pressed, wincing as his question only provoked a further onslaught of tears from the sobbing mother.

"We've already told you Agent... uh..." Adam Danforth faltered, his mind too overcome with concern for his son to have remembered the name of the two FBI agents who had suddenly appeared on their doorstep.

"Grant", Dean supplied, smiling apologetically at the man as he handed his wife a fresh tissue and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"Agent Grant, like we told you, we haven't noticed anything unusual, no cars, no strangers..." the man paused, taking a deep breath as he glanced down at the baby girl on his knee, "do you think our son is alive?"

Dean directed a helpless glance at Jo and she shook herself from her own maudlin thoughts and nodded with more confidence than she felt, "We're doing everything we can, Mr. Danforth."

"He was so excited to be a big brother," his wife wept, reaching out and smoothing a shaking hand over the baby's dark hair, "we'd given up hope of having another child of our own and... he was so excited when we brought Megan home."

"It's okay, Laura," Adam hugged his wife closer and directed his gaze to Dean and Jo,

"Agents, is there anything else you need to ask us? I think my wife could use a lie down."

"No, no... I think we're done here," Dean nodded, climbing to his feet and slipping his notebook into his jacket pocket.

Jo frowned and shook her head, "Wait, I'm sorry... Josh isn't adopted?"

"No," Laura shook her head, dabbing at her eyes, "we went through IVF. Why, is that important?"

"Thank you for your time, we'll be in touch real soon," Jo said, offering the Danforths the most reassuring smile in her repertoire before she and Dean left the house, heading back towards the waiting Impala.

"What are you thinking?" Dean pressed, his voice low to save being overheard by the numerous neighbours who had suddenly appeared in their gardens shortly after the 'agents' had arrived. Many were feigning a sudden interest in gardening, whilst one had been leafing through the same pile of mail for ten minutes.

"Not entirely sure myself yet," mused Jo, slipping her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose and sliding into the front passenger seat of the Impala with some difficulty given the fact that she was currently wearing a skirt. "I think that maybe we should check out the IVF thing though."

"How come?" Dean questioned, slipping into the driver's seat and beginning to loosen his tie with a sigh of relief. Dean hated formal wear with a passion.

"The Hospital of Central Connecticut has one of the largest fertility clinics in the country. Despite the distances they lived from the hospital, all these kids were born there. I think maybe this is our link," Jo said, grinning as the Impala pulled away from the curb and the assembled neighbours began to drift back inside their homes. If her hunch was correct, then they had just stumbled upon their very first lead.

**x-x-x**

Sam glanced up from the computer screen and sighed irritably at his brother.

"Would you stop that?" he pleaded, gesturing to the knife Dean was tapping on the edge of the table.

"You in?" Dean arched an eyebrow, wondering how long it was going to take for Sam to hack into the couples' various medical files. Time was of the essence and with every second that passed, Dean knew the chances of finding all three children alive and well were dwindling.

"Dean, this is a little more sophisticated than hacking Facebook, okay?" Sam widened his eyes to emphasize his point and nodded over toward Jo who was sitting crossed-legged on the floor, busily trawling through a book of folklore as she tried to identify what kind of creature they might be dealing with.  
>"Help out Jo with the research or something..." he suggested, anything to stop his brother breathing down his neck.<p>

"Crack a book, pumpkin," Jo smiled, not lifting her gaze from the passage she was reading as she tossed a heavy book on the floor in Dean's direction. He sighed in a very pained manner and reached for the book, sneering and blowing imaginary dust from the front cover as he lifted it into his lap.

"Cos I'm sure we'll find plenty of references to large, child-eating bunnies," Dean griped under his breath, ignoring the pointed glare that Jo directed at him.

"Aha!" Sam cried, his cheeks colouring somewhat as he realised that his cry of triumph had been a little more enthused than he was hoping for. "I cracked it. And from the looks of things here, the Housers, the Harrises and the Danforths were all patients of one Dr. Lilia Torese."

"So we have our link," Dean said, shooting Jo a somewhat impressed glance, which she responded to with a self-assured grin. "Not just a pretty face, Joanna."

"Watch it Winchester," retorted Jo, leaping nimbly to her feet and joining Sam at the laptop.

"This woman has over two hundred patients," Sam said, clearly dismayed. "How the hell are we supposed to tell which one could be next?"

Dean's brow furrowed and Jo adopted a similarly thoughtful stance, the room falling silent as the three hunters contemplated the predicament.

"Well we can discount the, ya know, foetuses," Jo said, being the one to break the silence. Sam and Dean stared at her in unison, and Jo's cheeks flushed bright red.

"I guess we focus on kids within a twenty mile radius of the last abduction between the ages of two and five," Dean suggested, slapping Sam on the shoulder and earning himself an irritated glare.

Sam punched a number of keys and after a few minutes, the list had been narrowed down to approximately thirty potential victims. Dean sighed, Jo rolled her eyes, and Sam groaned.

"Oh, I got it!" Jo bounced on her heels and gestured to the computer screen, "take out anyone who didn't list their religion as Christian, we know they probably won't be going to Easter egg hunts, right?"

Dean and Sam frowned and exchanged dubious glances, but Sam typed in the relevant search criteria and instantly fourteen names disappeared from the list; Jo wore a suitably smug grin.

"Great, just sixteen houses left to stake-out," Dean crossed his arms over his chest and silence once more descended over them.  
>"Better than thirty," Jo chimed, mirroring his stance as she folded her arms and they all winced comically at the screen.<br>"Maybe if I search for families with one biological child and take out multiple births?" Sam suggested, clearly not impressed with his own reasoning, but he figured they were now clutching at proverbial straws anyway.  
>"Knock yourself out, Sammy," Dean shrugged, suddenly blinking in surprise as the computer screen reloaded and rewarded them with a new list of only three names.<p>

"And all conveniently located within a five mile radius," Jo observed, pursing her lips at the screen and nodding her approval. Sam sat back in his chair and frowned, wondering if they really could have gotten so lucky in their search; he sincerely doubted it somehow, and knew that there would be some form of nasty surprise lurking around the corner.

"So which one do we pick?" Dean pressed, reading over the three names in an effort to commit them to memory. "We can't just waltz up to the front door, knock and ask what their holiday plans are."

"That's exactly what we're gonna do, Dean-o," Jo gasped, her eyes gleaming as the bones of a plan began to take shape in her mind. Sam and Dean exchanged dubious glances, but they knew that once Jo Harvelle had gotten started, there was no stopping her.

**x-x-x**

That same evening, Dean had swung by all three addresses on the list in an effort to see whether their services may be required. Jo's reasoning was that during the holiday period many families took off to visit other relatives and, since the adductions were happening within a certain area, should any of the couples have taken themselves away they could be comfortably ruled out.

The first house had proven to be deserted, and when Dean had knocked on the door of the adjoining home, he had been informed that the Taylors had indeed gone to New York for the holiday period. Dean crossed the family off the proverbial list and moved onto the next house, which was a small two storey colonial belonging to the Lindz family. A 'for sale' sign dominated the front yard, and Dean had maintained a watch for two straight hours until he had been rewarded with a glimpse of a heavily pregnant Mrs. Lindz serving up dinner to her husband and young son in the dining room. That left only one possible victim, and to say that Dean was relieved to have narrowed the search down so significantly was an understatement.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note – Thank you for all the reviews so far. Here is the concluding part of our 'episode one'. Let us know what you all think of the formatting, storylines, etc. **_

_**Episode One – Part Three**_

_**The Egg-straordinary Case of the **_

_**Killer Easter Bunny**_

_**x-x-x**_

"I can't believe you made me wear this." Dean glowered at Jo, jamming his finger down the collar of the pale blue shirt he was wearing and yanking it away from his throat.  
>"Would you quit fidgeting?" She slapped his hand away from his shirt collar and readjusted the dark blue sweater he was wearing over it.<br>"Admit it you're enjoying this," Dean's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he watched Jo pick at invisible lint from the fabric.  
>"Oh, please," Jo guffawed, gesturing down to her own outfit with an arched eyebrow that more than conveyed her disdain, "I look just as much of a dork as you do, Dean."<p>

Dean shrugged and swept his eyes over the dress she was wearing; the red rose print of the fabric was accentuated with a matching red bolero cardigan and a pair of red stiletto heels completed the outfit.

"I think you look kind of hot," Dean stated, chuckling as Jo rolled her eyes at him, and slipped her arm through his. She began to lead him up the path of the large Victorian house they had been loitering outside of.  
>"You remember our cover story?" she checked, sighing as she slapped his hands away from his collar for what felt like the hundredth time, and stuck out her tongue at him as he swatted back at her.<p>

Dean barely had a chance to respond as the front door was thrown wide open to reveal an grinning middle aged man wearing the most hideous chequered sweater Dean had ever laid eyes on. Suddenly, he was filled with gratitude towards Jo for the outfit she had selected for him; things could undoubtedly have been so much worse.

"Hi, we're the Millers," Dean said, plastering a saccharine sweet smile on his face and offering his hand to the man.

"George Atwaiter," the guy replied, taking Dean's hand in his own but keeping his gaze trained upon Jo, who cut a sweetly pretty figure in her dress. Dean resisted the urge to laugh, wondering if the man before him would ever guess that the woman he was making unwelcome goo-goo eyes at could take him apart in less than a minute. He assumed not, and simply wrapped his arm around Jo's waist in a vaguely protective manner.

"I'm Nick and this is Jessica," said Dean, unable to resist slipping a weak joke into the conversation. Jo dug her elbow discreetly into his ribs and Dean's grin only widened. "We're buying number ninety-two in a couple of weeks, and our new neighbour suggested that we stop by to introduce ourselves."

"Oh, well that's great, come on in," he smiled widely, ushering Dean and Jo inside as he gestured through the house, "you're very welcome to join us, we're just having a few friends over, so come on out and meet everyone. My wife Jeannie has organised an Easter egg hunt for the kids, but I'm sure she'll be thrilled to meet the new neighbours."

George paused and suddenly glanced back at the couple.  
>"Do you guys have kids? They're welcome to join us, the more the merrier."<br>Dean shook his head and smiled, "Oh, no... no kids yet." He shot Jo a comically sentimental glance and patted her stomach, "But we're working on it, right sweetheart?"  
>Their host nodded, exchanging a 'boy's club' chuckle with Dean before he led them out toward the garden. Dean yelped and gritted his teeth as the heel of Jo's stiletto was ruthlessly stamped into his foot, and he knew then that he was invariably going to pay for his comment later on.<p>

"Keep moving Winchester," Jo hissed, sighing as she watched him do his best to remove the amused smirk from his features. They followed George out into the yard, their eyes widening as they observed the thirty or so people that milled about it comfortably. Glasses of champagne and trays of canapés were being offered around by teenagers wearing dinner dress, and Dean could not help but snort derisively at the stuffiness of it all.

"First thing's first, we find the Greysons and keep a low profile," Jo suggested, referencing the surname of the one remaining family on their list. "If their kid is next then it will go down here for sure."

Upon arriving outside the Greysons house that morning in order to determine whether or not they were indeed still in town, Dean had noted the fliers detailing the neighbourhood Easter egg hunt at once. He had rolled his eyes, utterly irritated by the clichéd domesticity of it all, and had left the area after tearing down a flier from the nearest lamppost. The resulting plan of action had been hastily thrown together, and all three of the hunters were concerned about its chances of success. Simply, it involved Dean and Jo keeping an eye on the child for the duration of the party, whilst Sam loitered just outside the grounds with weapons, ready to back the couple up if required. Dean had momentarily contemplated what kind of weapon would indeed be required to kill a humongous rodent, but he had decided that a couple of rounds of buckshot in its fluffy ass would more than likely suffice.

They were still drawing a relative blank as to what the creature could possibly be, and had decided unanimously that perhaps the best course of action would be to set eyes on it themselves before attempting to ID it.

"We should probably... mingle," Dean stated, the disinterest more than evident in his expression as he eyed a waiter approaching with a platter of tiny hors d'oeuvres. Arching an eyebrow, he plucked one of them off the tray and popped it whole into his mouth.

Jo smiled and shook her head as his eyes lit up at the apparent taste sensation.

"They're delicious!" he enthused, now firmly lying in wait for the waiter to make another lap past the couple.  
>"Dean, we're supposed to be on the look-out for a big ass bunny, not mini blintzes," Jo smirked, scooping two glasses of champagne from another waiter's tray and handing him one.<br>"You know what those things are?" he raised both eyebrows, clearly hoping for a little Harvelle home cooking. "Can we get the recipe?"

Jo laughed and took a sip of her champagne, shaking her head in amusement as she kept a watchful eye on the group of kids who were being assembled next to one of the tables.

"I think the festivities are about to begin," Jo said, motioning towards the children with a nod of her head. Dean nonchalantly shot a glance in the direction that Jo indicated, raising the glass of champagne to his lips and taking a sip that caused him to grimace.

"Never did like this stuff," Dean complained before tipping the champagne into the bushes behind him and then placing the emptied flute onto a picnic table.

"So how do we do this?" inquired Dean, wondering how best to make tailing a bunch of kids on an Easter egg hunt look innocent. "Maybe you should go. You know, play with the kids or get involved or something?"

"Me?" Jo squeaked, utterly terrified by the prospect of the now rampant children. "Why me? I don't know the first thing about kids."

"Yeah but you're... you know..." Dean trailed off as Jo's eyes blazed. Casually, he scuffed the ground with the toe of his shoe as Jo stood facing him, hands on hips.

"Because I'm what Dean? Because I'm a woman?" she demanded caustically.

"No?" Dean tried, wincing as he realised nothing he could say was going to get him out of the proverbial hole he was steadily digging himself. He smiled affably and shrugged, "What, you don't like kids?"

Dean elbowed Jo playfully and eyed her with slight suspicion. Jo frowned as she saw something that looked remotely like concern flash across his features. Whilst Dean was not entirely sure that raising a family and hunting was a possibility, he was admittedly a little disappointed that Jo might not see it as an option at all.

"I didn't say that, I just said I don't know what to do with them. I've never been around them, Dean, they... they just..." she paused, taking a sip of champagne. Jo had never been around children and as an only child herself, her exposure to kids had been limited to classmates and their siblings, none of whom she had been particularly close to.  
>Dean smirked and nodded in sudden understanding, folding his arms across his chest as he teased her, "You're afraid of them. You're afraid of a bunch of four year olds."<br>"Frankly, yeah," she shrugged unapologetically, "so, if you want to play Mary Poppins, knock yourself out. I'll just... stay here. I guess the whole 'mommy' gene bypassed me."

Jo sighed and avoided his gaze, pretending to scan the back yard as she felt Dean hold her in a distinctly analytical gaze.  
>"Nope, I don't buy that," he shook his head in dismissal of her claims, finally unfolding his arms.<p>

"Whatever," Jo replied with a weary sigh, realising that arguing with Dean was rarely a fruitful task.

"I don't," Dean reiterated, seizing Jo's hand and beginning to lead her into the direction of the waiting children, who were shrieking with laughter at something the hostess had said. The kindly looking woman bent down as she spoke to each child, offering them a genuine smile that showed her true delight at the joy that radiated on the children's faces. Jo felt her stomach clench and dug her heels into the ground defiantly, all the while shaking her head as Dean continued to haul her with relative ease to her doom.

"Hey there, my wife Jessica was wondering if you needed a hand," Dean said, beaming at the woman who was busily distributing baskets, "she just loves kids."

"Oh that would be super!" the woman, presumably George's wife, burbled with a vehement nod that sent her corkscrew curls bouncing around her plump cheeks.

"Dean!" Jo hissed grabbing at his hand with desperation as Dean prepared to turn on his heel and walk away. He was wearing a smug and arrogant grin that Jo dearly would have loved to punch right off of his face. However, there were children in the vicinity and the one thing Jo did know was that violence was generally considered unsuitable around them.

"I can't stay," Dean muttered, his eyes gleaming with triumph, "I'm a dude. That would look all kids of odd. We need to blend in."

Although recognising his point as true, Jo shot Dean a glare that indicated they would be discussing the matter at a later date. She plastered a suitably fake smile on her face as Jeannie handed her a collection of baskets, instructing Jo to hand them out to the waiting participants.

"Uh... here you go sweetie," Jo handed a basket to a little boy, her eyes widening in surprise as he passed it back to her with a thoroughly outraged yelp.  
>"That's pink! I'm a boy!" he defended, his glare withering as Jo merely smiled by way of apology.<br>"Oh, right... sorry," she amended, handing him a blue basket which he accepted with a grin.  
>Jo's back stiffened in abject horror as she was grabbed around the leg; when she glanced down she was somewhat startled to see that her attacker was no more than a small girl who had attached herself to Jo's calf with a ferocious grip.<br>"Hi," the little girl smiled up at her, her blonde bunches bobbing as she giggled. She showed no indication that she was about to release her captive and Jo wondered if it would be considered mean to attempt to forcibly disentangle herself.  
>"Hi," Jo managed. Jeannie smiled and patted the little girl on the head, although she made no attempt to intervene and rescue from her new best friend.<p>

Almost immediately, Jo thought of her own mother, who had always been so at ease in the presence of children. She recalled Ellen jokily commenting once that kids could smell fear, and now that she thought about it, Jo wondered if her mom had perhaps been correct. She imagined Ellen watching her now, wearing her best amused smile and finding real mirth in Jo's unease. Straightening up a little, Jo decided to meet the task head on.

"What's your name?" Jo inquired, hesitantly bending to the little girl in order to prise her arms from her leg. Instead, she placed a wicker basket in her chubby hands and received an excited gasp in reward.

"Molly," the child replied, not missing a beat before she pressed, "What's your name?"

"Jessica," Jo answered, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Dean's creative use of aliases. She shot her boyfriend a glare, which he greeted with a small wave.

"I like your shoes," Molly said, pointing at Jo's red heels, which she had to admit herself were the one saving grace of the entire outfit.

"You do?" Jo smiled, laughing as Molly hugged the basket to her chest and nodded vehemently.  
>"Yep, red's my favourite colour," Molly informed her, reaching up a pleading hand to Jo as Jeannie begin to lead the children off. A second child seized Jo's free hand as she followed after Jeannie and the others, and Jo could not help but smile at the buoyant grins of the two little girls who were propelling her toward the anticipated treasures.<p>

Dean smirked, nodding at Jo approvingly as she rolled her eyes and bit back a smile of her own. He was going to be unbearable after this, Jo decided.  
>Dean watched his girlfriend in evident amusement, taking in the sight of her floral dress and altogether prim appearance. Combined with the two chattering rug rats she wrangled in each hand, it was a strangely appealing picture and he cleared his throat half in alarm at his own thoughts.<p>

**x-x-x**

Sam had made it around to the back of the expansive property without difficulty thanks to the trees that surrounded the fencing. He had favoured a handgun on this instance, reasoning that it would be far easier to conceal from the civilians around than his usual shotgun. Sam hoped that the weapon would do the job just as well.

He found a gap in the fence after walking a distance, and lowered himself down to it. Keeping his body to one side and out of view, Sam poked his head through the hole and surveyed the garden. A copse of bushes in front of the gap concealed his head from sight, but were not dense enough to prevent Sam from being able to see the garden.

People dressed in their spring finery milled about the yard, drinking real champagne from crystal glasses, eating tiny finger foods that contained far too much pesto for Sam's liking, and generally chit-chatting about things like the stock market; Sam was loathed to admit that once upon a time, he had coveted this kind of lifestyle. Given his years of experience hunting that were now under his belt, Sam could now not imagine anything more soul destroying.

Hearing a voice he recognised, Sam blinked twice in disbelief as he watched a long line of children scurry past; the last two little girls held tightly onto Jo's hands as they chattered and skipped along by her side.  
>"Whoa," Sam furrowed his brow, snickering to himself as he watched Jo in full-on Maria Von Trapp mode. Stifling further chuckles, he concealed himself back beneath the undergrowth and waited for the furry suspect to make an appearance. He assumed a six foot rabbit was going to be pretty hard to miss.<p>

Jo stopped in her tracks as the sound of a woman's voice halted the steps of the dark haired child beside her, and the little girl spun around as the woman Jo assumed was her mother appeared.  
>"Amy, don't you run off now, do you hear me?" the woman instructed, smiling gratefully at Jo as she saw the child's hand clasped within hers.<br>"Yes ma'am," the little girl sighed, grinning as she saw a brightly coloured egg hidden beside a planter. She dragged Jo off in haste to claim the prize.  
>"She has a tendency to wander off," Amy's mother called, watching her daughter closely as the child remained oblivious to any concern.<br>"It's fine, I won't let her out of my sight," Jo promised, smiling to reinforce her assurances and watching as the woman made her way back towards the refreshments table.

"I got another one!" Amy cheered, dropping the egg into her basket where it rolled into place neatly beside the one other that Jo had already ferreted out for the child. "I'm gonna get lots."

"You sure are," Jo agreed, her eyes sweeping the crowds of children all the while as she mentally conducted head counts to ensure that they were all still present. As of yet, nothing appeared to be amiss. Jo jumped a little as she felt Molly release her hand and suddenly tear off across the yard. However, her foot caught on something unseen in the grass and the child tumbled to the ground, immediately dissolving into tears.

Jo's head whipped around as she desperately attempted to locate a more suitable adult than herself to comfort the child or, better yet, Molly's mother. Finding no one rushing to her aid, Jo approached the wailing little girl.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Molly reached out toward Jo, waggling her fingers in an instruction to be picked up. Jo chewed hesitantly on her bottom lip and then released Amy's hand so as to scoop up the other child. Molly looped her arms around Jo's neck and pressed her tear streaked face into her collarbone, sniffling miserably as she took solace in the much needed embrace.

Jo hugged Molly to her, rubbing her back and whispering soothingly, ever conscious that she should be watching Amy and the hoards of other children who all remained oblivious to the danger.  
>"It's okay," Jo assured the child, feeling the grip around her neck tighten, "it's okay sweetie. How about we go find more eggs, huh?"<br>Jo glanced down at her side and felt an instant wave of nausea overcome her as she realised that Amy was no longer there. Scanning the undergrowth, she called out, carrying Molly in her arms as she tried to locate the missing child.

**x-x-x**

The tiny white rabbit had appeared from nowhere but Amy had spotted it at once, as had Sam Winchester from his position behind the fence panels. Sam groaned inwardly as the child began to approach the animal, which reared onto its hind legs before lolloping off in the opposition direction to Jo.

The hunter was busy comforting another child who appeared to be only superficially hurt, and Sam cursed the rather sudden and inconvenient appearance of Jo's maternal instincts.

"Pssst," Sam hissed, cupping his hand around his mouth and calling out to Jo, who appeared stricken now that she had finally noted the missing child. Sam recoiled as suddenly, a pair of small eyes thrust themselves into his face.

The little boy stared at Sam for several seconds, confusion registering upon his features, before he shrugged and simply bent down to pick up the foil wrapped egg that had caught his attention in the first place.

"Are you playing hide and seek?" the child finally inquired, mercifully keeping his voice low as though afraid he would otherwise give away Sam's position.

Sam nodded and made a shushing gesture, pressing his finger to his lips as the kid simply shrugged and ran off. Sam called out to Jo once again, relieved to see that she not only heard him, but also simultaneously spotted the rabbit.  
>"Amy?" Jo called out, placing Molly back on her feet and directing the child to walk beside her.<br>"A bunny rabbit!" Molly's eyes widened in excitement and she made an attempt to release Jo's hand. A small pout formed on her lips as Jo shook her head; she found herself contemplating picking the child up again in an unusually protective gesture.

Jo held Molly's hand in a vice like grip as she stalked after Amy, who was now just within reach. Amy ambled a few feet behind the rabbit, which appeared to be leading her to a hole hidden beneath a row of trees.

"Oh, crap," Jo's eyes grew as wide as saucers as the rabbit suddenly turned and within seconds had grown to a height that rivalled Sam's.  
>Molly gasped beside her, her arm shooting out accusingly at Jo, "You said a bad word!"<p>

"I know, I'm sorry," Jo amended, smiling to the best of her ability as Molly nodded. She was relieved to see Dean striding towards her, his hand buried within his jacket where he clutched his gun. "Hey Molly, I think I saw a heap of eggs over the other side of the garden, right where the dessert table is. Why don't you see how many you can find whilst I get Amy?"

Molly gasped, all reprimand for Jo forgotten as she ran full pelt towards the laden dessert table, her eggs bouncing in her basket.

"Holy..." Dean muttered, drawing up alongside Jo and taking in the sight of the enormous rabbit. The hunters and their prey had ventured into a secluded section of the garden that was protected from view by all manner of trees and tall hedges. Dean shot a glance around to see if anyone had noticed the bizarre gate crasher, and was relieved to see Sam jogging towards them after having climbed through another, larger hole in the fence.

"Amy..." Jo called out, approaching the child hesitantly. The little girl stared transfixed at the rabbit, which for the moment made no threatening movements. It simply cocked its head and stared at Jo, both ears standing erect as though it were listening.

"Come here sweetie," Jo coaxed, holding one arm out to the child, who seemed not to have registered Jo's voice at all.

"It's the Easter bunny!" Amy whispered, her head tilted back as she gazed in awe at the rabbit.

"No, no Amy, that is not the Easter bunny, that's a very, very bad bunny," Dean said urgently, watching with baited breath as Jo edged closer to her. Just as it seemed that she was within range of Jo's outstretched hand, the rabbit disappeared down the hole and Amy took off in a sprint toward it.  
>"Amy no!" Jo yelled, running after her with Sam and Dean following seconds behind.<p>

Cursing as her heels spiked the dew dampened ground, Jo kicked off her shoes and tossed them to the ground, arriving at the edge of the rabbit hole mere seconds after the little girl crawled in and promptly disappeared. Jo paused for a split second before taking a deep breath and following soon after.  
>"Jo!" Dean yelled, his breath catching in his chest as he sped to reach his girlfriend. However, she had already disappeared from view before Dean could so much as blink.<p>

"We're going down there," instructed Dean, his tone leaving no room for disagreement. Sam simply nodded and, clutching Dean's elbow, the two brothers jumped into the rabbit hole. Behind them, the ground sealed itself closed.

**x-x-x**

Jo landed hard on her elbow, groaning as a jarring pain shot through her bone. She gritted her teeth and rolled onto her side before leaping to her feet, her eyes scanning the darkness for the missing child. The room she found herself in was almost like an underground cavern, and Jo could see tunnels leading off in all directions. She sighed and began to follow the closest turning.

"Amy?" she called out, keeping her voice to a minimum as she feared attracting the attention of the rabbit, or whatever the creature turned out to be. As she walked, Jo slid her hand up her skirt and removed the handgun from the holster she had attached to her thigh.

Flicking off the safety catch, Jo held the gun close to her side, calling out to the child once again. Amy did not answer, yet a curious sound greeted Jo's ears as she inched further and further down the tunnel. She paused as she listened to what sounded very much like children at play; their laughter and whoops of excitement momentarily reassured her that perhaps Amy was not in any imminent danger.  
>"Jo?"<p>

She turned as the sound of a voice echoed around the tiny chamber. Jo was somewhat relieved to spy Dean and Sam hurrying toward her, apparently less than impressed by her actions.  
>"You wanna give me a heads up next time before you decide to vanish into a hole in the ground?" Dean hissed, reaching her side and glaring at her pointedly.<br>"What was I supposed to do? Watch the kid disappear?" Jo spat back, narrowing her eyes as she glowered up at him.  
>"Can you guys do that later?" Sam interrupted, gesturing down the tunnel with a tight smile. "You know, after the rescue?"<br>Dean shrugged at his brother apologetically, ignoring the glare Jo still directed at him as they began to head down toward a light source at the end of the tunnel.  
>"Be vewy, vewy quiet..." Dean quipped with a smirk, earning a sigh from Sam and an amused yet disdainful smile from Jo.<p>

No sooner had the group rounded the corner than they found themselves suddenly flung to the ground as something large and heavy barrelled into them. Dean, Jo and Sam landed in a tangled heap of limbs, Dean spluttering as Sam's knee flew into his stomach.

"What the..." Sam muttered, scrambling to his feet and hauling Jo up behind him. Dean remained on the ground, somewhat winded, and simply stared at the figure of the tall, naked woman that now stood before them. Golden blonde hair tumbled down past her shoulders, helping to preserve at least a degree of her modesty. Sam immediately looked away, ever the gentleman, whilst Jo stared aghast at the figure. Her hips were wide and even matronly, but her features were delicate and indescribably beautiful.

Dean gaped at the figure for several seconds before finally managing to locate his voice, "You didn't happen to see a... a big... fluffy..."

He shook his head, unable to finish his sentence as she woman smiled at him witheringly. Jo remained open mouthed. The serene expression that graced the woman's features was unnerving and Jo shot a questioning glance at Sam, who demonstrated his own ignorance with a shrug. Dean was suitably transfixed, and he only blinked when Jo flung Sam's jacket at the naked stranger.

"Lady, you might want to cover up," Jo spat, attempting to glance past the woman towards the children.  
>"My body offends you?" the stranger frowned, gesturing to her naked form as she regarded Jo intently; her discomfort seemed to prove bemusing.<br>"No," Dean replied almost instantly, "No! Us? Offended? No."

He winced as Jo slapped him hard across the back of the head.  
>"I asked for that," he admitted, rubbing his head as he climbed to his feet and appeared to regain his senses.<p>

"What are you?" demanded Jo, tiring of wasting time with small talk. Over the woman's shoulder, four children played together, laughing and shrieking as they attempted to tag each other. Jo recognised Amy, and the faces of the other children were undeniably familiar. She breathed a sigh of relief, realising that they had finally located the missing victims. Now all that was left to do was to kill the bad guy before delivering the children safely back to their respective parents.

"What am I?" the woman repeated, an eyebrow arched and her tone clearly affronted.

"Who are you?" Sam interjected quickly, sensing the mystery creature's disdain for Jo, who crossed her arms over her chest and glared.

"I am Eostre," was the reply in a syrupy sweet tone that almost made Jo gag.

"Yeah, sorry..." Dean scratched his head and shrugged, now becoming similarly irritated by her elusive attitude and simpering smile, "who?"  
>Eostre's nostrils flared and it became apparent to the three hunters that a nerve had been touched upon.<p>

"Who am I? Who am I?" she mocked, "I'm only the reason your miserable species has not become extinct. I am the creator of new life and the protector of maidens. It is I who bring forth new life into the world; I who grant the prayers of the infertile and the barren."  
>"Okay," Jo smiled tightly, gesturing back toward the children as she kept her gun trained on Eostre, "so that was you running around in the rabbit costume? Kidnapping small children... and..."<br>"I am merely taking back that which I gave," Eostre defended, smiling in almost maternal pride as her gaze swept over the children, who appeared not to notice the adults in the tunnel and indeed the confrontation that was occurring before them. It was eerie and Jo found herself suspicious that the children were under some form of enchantment.

"Eostre is the Germanic goddess of the spring, new life, and fertility," Sam said, his gaze ticking to Dean and then back to the apparent god, who now peered at Sam with a delighted smile.

"A fan!" Eostre cooed, her hands pressed together. Sam shook his head, hiding his disdain impressively. The little he knew of the goddess depicted her as a maternal figure, granting fertility to those who otherwise would be childless. He could not begin to fathom why she would then turn to kidnapping the lives she had in essence created.

"Without me, none of these beautiful little darlings would even exist," Eostre insisted, shooting a sad glance towards the children. "They are my best works of art, and art should be appreciated, should it not?"

"Those kids are appreciated," Jo snarled, her voice was marred with disgust and her upper lip curled into a sneer. "Their parents are worried half to death about them. You had no right."

"I had every right," the goddess hissed, and within the blink of an eye she had come to stand directly in front of Jo. Eostre pushed her face into the hunter's, her green eyes flashing dangerously. However, Jo refused to be cowed, keeping her gun trained on Eostre's chest.

"I made them and then I gifted them to the pathetic specimens that call themselves parents. None of them were worthy. They looked at those children as gifts from above and they were thankful, but once the children grow older, science gets all the credit. It was the doctors or the drugs or the intensive therapies... creating life in a Petri dish? Who ever heard of anything so ridiculous?"

"You're Doctor Torese," Sam interjected, shaking his head and wincing as he suddenly recognised the glaring clue he had overlooked. "It's an anagram."

"Too obvious, you think?" She frowned, considering this before she cast her gaze back at Jo and Dean, who now stood side by side.  
>"We're taking those kids home, so step aside and nobody needs to get hurt," Dean directed, grimacing at Sam who seemed to be the only hunter not to have a weapon trained on the goddess. Sam hastily followed suit and Eostre folded her arms across her chest, peering at each of the hunters in turn.<p>

"You cannot kill me," she laughed, gesturing emphatically with her hands as she reached toward the heavens. Dean blushed as the motion exposed her bare chest and he somehow managed to avert his gaze.  
>"I have already told you, this world of yours would not continue to exist without me," she reminded them, arching a blonde eyebrow and smiling with unabashed confidence.<br>"Those children belong with their parents," Jo stated, thoroughly bored with attempting to reason with her. She was hoping that they would soon be entering the shooting and banishing part of the hunt.  
>"And what would you know of it?" Eostre regarded her closely, evaluating Jo with clear derision. With a snap of her fingers, a silken robe of cornflower blue suddenly appeared to swathe the deity's figure. The colour was exquisite, succeeding in highlighting the deep emerald green of her eyes, and Eostre visibly preened as though aware of her own natural beauty.<br>"Alright, enough," Dean snapped, his finger hovering above the trigger as he aimed the barrel square at the centre of her chest, "let them go."  
>"Now," Jo chimed in, pleased to see the goddess' smile fade as she glowered back at them; her eyes flashed with annoyance.<p>

"Do you know how it feels to have your work ignored? To see the wonders that you create attributed to some other ridiculous invention of mankind?"  
>"Woman, please," Dean scoffed, "we're hunters. We save their ungrateful assess every day of the week, we avert an apocalypse at least once a year and, we've still gotta pay taxes."<p>

Jo and Sam nodded their agreement, and Eostre cocked her head as though contemplating Dean's words. Her expression grew wistful and she released a heavy, dramatic sigh.

"I used to be worshipped, my praises were sung by every couple wishing for the blessing of a child, and when nature failed, I was called upon," Eostre murmured, nostalgic. Her eyes almost appeared to have glazed over as she reminisced about her supposed 'glory days'. Dean and Jo exchanged tired glances, but Sam decided to humour the goddess for the time being.

"That must be awful," Sam soothed, his face a pantomime of sympathy. Eostre's head whipped in his direction and a surprised yet pleased expression settled across her features.

"All I want is a little recognition," she murmured, her eyes wide and her bottom lip almost trembling. "Is that really so wrong?"

Jo let out a snort of laughter, which Eostre chose to ignore, tossing her head instead. Her honey golden mane whirled over her shoulder with the gesture, tendrils of it flying into Jo's face.

"Can we just get with the shooting already?" Dean demanded, nudging Sam with his elbow to signify that he should raise his gun once again.

"Kill me and your pathetic race falls by half," Eostre said coldly. "You have no idea how often I am forced to intervene. Perhaps one day you yourself may have cause to call upon me."

Dean stared at her, utterly indignant, and guffawed loudly in response as suitable words of outrage escaped him. Jo rolled her eyes at his testosterone fuelled display, although she was mildly amused at the expression that crossed his features at Eostre's insinuation.  
>"Hey, I don't fire blanks," he smiled at his own double-entendre and then glanced down pointedly at the gun in his hand. "Let them go. I won't ask again."<p>

Eostre yawned and her fingertips fluttered at her mouth, "I am not holding them here, and they are free to go as they wish. Yet I suspect they would want to remain here, free to laugh and play and embrace the beauty of childhood, away from your cynical, cold hearted world."  
>"Cynical and cold hearted as it might be," Sam attempted, holding up his hand and retracting his gun in a placating gesture, "that's where they belong. And if you love them as much as you say you do... as much as I know you do... then you'll let them go. Their parents miss them, they love them... they prayed for them."<p>

Dean rolled his eyes, irritated by Sam's sudden apathy for the creature who was masquerading as a giant rabbit in order to lure small children down a hole. The absurdity of the situation was not lost on him by any means.

"Why not stay on at the hospital?" Sam suggested, wincing as both Jo and Dean growled in protest.

"Since when do we actively encourage practicing medicine without a license?" demanded Jo, shooting Sam an incredulous glance that he deflected with a shrug.

"You can't deny she's effective," Sam argued, "we can't exactly kill her and doom half the human race to infertility."

"Yes, I'm sure your brother would like to be a father one day," Eostre quipped, shooting Dean a sober glance.

Dean laughed, although without humour and he glared in annoyance at the deity, "You're hilarious, a real comedian."  
>Sam turned momentarily to Dean and shook his head, "Dude, just... don't rise to it, seriously."<br>"Intriguing choice of words," Eostre murmured, the faint traces of a smile appearing on her face.

Dean bestowed his brother a thoroughly withering glare. Clearing his throat, Sam hid a smirk, and turned to Eostre once again.  
>A muffled giggle drew Dean's attention to his side where Jo hid her amusement behind her free hand, before mouthing at him a clearly unrepentant 'sorry'.<br>"Laugh it up, Harvelle," Dean whispered, keeping a watchful eye on Eostre who appeared to be weighing up her options, "I haven't heard you complaining."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't simply kill you?" Eostre finally demanded, brows knitted as she glanced in turn at each of the waiting hunters.

"Because you give life, you don't take it away," Sam countered with ease, "death goes against your very nature."

"Touché," the goddess conceded, her eyes clouding with unspoken sorrow as she gazed at the children, who were immersed still in their game.

"I bet they miss their parents too," Sam said, carefully. "Let them go home. Go back to the hospital and to your work. Whether people are gracious or not, it doesn't change everything you have achieved."

The goddess sighed, staring after the four little souls she had created.  
>Jo seized the opportunity to negotiate, realising the creature's ego was too enormous for threats to prove successful. Perhaps Sam's approach had been right all along.<br>"Why don't you ask them?" Jo asked quietly, her tone neither challenging nor hostile.  
>"Fine," Eostre agreed, raising her hand toward the group of children and beckoning Emma toward them. The little girl blinked and looked over at the hunters with trepidation, yet she slowly made her way over to the deity's side and peered up at them uncertainly from behind wide eyes.<br>"Now, my darling child, are you having fun with your friends?" Eostre placed her hand to the little girl's cheek and regarded her affectionately. Certainly the child did not seem at all afraid and Jo could not help but notice the warm, nurturing aura that the being radiated.  
>"When can I see Mommy?" the child lisped, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as a sad sigh emanated from her little body.<p>

Eostre closed her eyes for a moment and simply nodded, "You miss your parents, little one?" Her question sounded more like a statement and she sighed in quiet resolution. Emma nodded, fidgeting with the hem of her pretty blue party dress as she stood regarding Eostre.  
>"Soon, you shall see them soon," the goddess promised with a kindly air, meeting Jo's gaze finally. After a pause, Eostre's expression grew to one that resembled gratitude.<br>"I'm not a parent," Jo glanced down at the little girl and she found herself able to envision herself at the same age with surprising ease; there had been one person she could never have imagined being without, "but I was somebody's daughter."

"I could never hurt them," Eostre whispered, laying her hand on Emma's shoulder and squeezing it with gentle affection. "I just wanted to be needed... celebrated again."

"You're needed," Sam said, and it almost seemed to Jo that he felt genuine sympathy for the deity now. "And every day of those kids' lives, their parents are thankful, even if they're not entirely sure who to."

Eostre nodded and with a wave of one hand, the three remaining children ceased their game. Their little heads whipped around the cavern in confusion, fear and surprise dominating their features. The smaller of the children was the first to react, dissolving into hiccupping sobs that were interspaced by a babbling that none of the adults in the room could decipher.

"I guess I should get going, work to do and all that," Eostre commented, squaring her shoulders and tensing her jaw as she attempted to brush off the hurt that was clearly threatening to consume her. She could not resist one last barb however, quirking a brow as she demanded, "Unless of course, you wish to shoot me still?"

"Don't tempt me, lady," Dean muttered under his breath, eyeing the woman as she smiled back at him with a gleeful expression. Eostre's attention was momentarily stolen by one of the children; as Amy recognised Jo she instantly threw her arms around the hunter's waist, sobbing into the folds of Jo's dress as she wailed for her mother.

Jo handed her gun to Sam and scooped the crying child into her arms, reassuring her gently that they were taking her right back to her mommy. Dean smirked, clearing his throat as Jo shot him a glare and merely continued to rock the girl in her arms.  
>"We're taking this one with us," Jo stated, leaving no room for argument. Jo was hopeful that Amy's mother would be none the wiser to her disappearance and the little girl could be deposited back in the garden along with the three hunters.<br>"As you wish," Eostre sighed, her expression toward Jo softening as she observed her tender interactions with the child.  
>"You'll put the others back where you found them?" Dean checked, watching as Eostre lifted the smallest of the children into her arms and brushed tears from the toddler's chubby cheeks.<br>"You have my word," she agreed, beginning to lead the children toward the entrance of the tunnel, Sam, Dean and Jo following closely behind.

Eostre waved her hand over the wall and instantly a large portal appeared; the hazy landscape of the garden they had left became clearly visible through the ether.

"Well, I'd like to say it's been a pleasure," Dean observed, shrugging as he found himself unable to continue the sentence. Jo shook her head and simply stepped through the hole, all the while holding Amy to her chest as she whispered in the child's ear in an attempt to calm her.

"Likewise," Eostre replied, nonplussed by Dean's obvious hatred.

"I gotta ask," Dean said, pausing with one hand massaging the back of his neck. "Why the giant rabbit get up?"

Eostre laughed; a high tinkling sound that echoed around the cavern.

"Perhaps your brother can answer that for you, I must be getting the little ones home," Eostre directed a pointed smile at the hunters, before gathering the three children into the folds of her cloak and clapping her hands once. In the blink of an eye, she disappeared, leaving Sam and Dean alone. The brothers wasted no time in clambering through the portal, where they found Jo wiping tears away from Amy's cheeks and readjusting the ribbon that held her hair.

"You know what she was talking about?" Dean asked, his interest peaked now; he loathed not understanding even the smallest aspect of a case.

"The story goes that Eostre found a wounded bird that couldn't fly anymore, so unable to heal it, she turned it into a white rabbit so it would survive the winter. The rabbit found that it could lay eggs still, and it would leave them at the beginning of spring as gifts," Sam said, watching Dean's astonished expression with amusement, "in theory, she created the Easter bunny."

"Wait, wait... that was the Easter Bunny?" his eyebrows shot up incredulously and he shook his head in disbelief, "son of a..."  
>"Dean!" Jo clamped her hands over Amy's ears and gestured down to the little girl, who was glaring at Dean with contempt.<br>"Sorry kid," he smiled by way of apology, his eyes suddenly drawn to Jo as she holstered her gun, and exposed the top of her thigh in the process.  
>"Amy, let's go find your Mommy, huh?" Jo suggested, reaching out a hand to the child who readily accepted and skipped beside the hunter in the direction of the house.<p>

Dean strolled behind with Sam, obviously deep in thought over something or other.

Sam stopped in his tracks and raised an eyebrow in questioning at his brother, "Dean? You okay, dude?"  
>A strangely embarrassed tinge of pink appeared on Dean's cheeks as he first shrugged and then cleared his throat in discomfort. Clearly there was something still playing on his mind.<br>"Eostre, she uh... she was just kidding back there, right?" Dean checked, a slightly worried expression overcoming his features, which he tried to undermine with a nervous chuckle.  
>Sam shook his head, not comprehending Dean's question, "About?"<br>"You know... my... the... swim team," he motioned in a downwards direction and sighed as understanding finally registered upon Sam's face.  
>"Oh!" Sam shook his head as he replied with confidence, "no man, she was just messing with you. I mean, she probably knows how sensitive some guys are about that kind of thing."<p>

"Some guys?" Dean replied, his eyes narrowing at Sam, who was hiding his amusement well.

"Oh yeah, you know," said Sam, slapping Dean on the back good naturedly before walking off back towards the yard, his grin immense, "short guys."

**x-x-x**

The hunters had returned to the motel, weary but in surprisingly immaculate condition. Generally speaking, hunts tended to end with all manner of blood and grime adorning clothing, and at least several new scrapes and bruises in interesting places. Dean had to admit that although facing down a giant rabbit had been surreal, it had had some advantages. The main one being that Jo's outfit had remained in tact.

Sam had disappeared to fill up the car with gas before they began the journey back to the roadhouse, leaving Jo and Dean alone in the motel room. Jo was busily packing her clothes and various texts she had borrowed from Bobby, whilst Dean watched with an odd expression on his face.

"You just gonna sit there and stare at me Dean?" she asked as she tossed books into a large gym bag, that Dean was amused to note was hot pink. Although not typically feminine in many respects, there was a softer girly side that lurked beneath Jo's hard exterior that delighted Dean no end. In so many ways, she reminded him of a young Mary Winchester.  
>Dean wondered how Jo had even known that he had been staring, but he sometimes got the impression that like her mother before her, Jo was strangely all seeing and all knowing; particularly where he was concerned.<p>

"You know, there's this little Italian place we passed by in town," Dean suddenly announced, smiling charmingly as Jo shot him a confused glance.  
>"Okay," she planted her hands on her hips and then waited for him to continue. Shrugging the red cardigan from her shoulder, she tossed it on top of the gym bag and reached around to the side of her dress to lower the zip.<br>"Wait, just a second," Dean stood and walked over to her, picking up the cardigan and placing his hand over hers as he pulled the zip back up and adopted his best persuasive smile.  
>"Dean Winchester, trying to talk me into my clothes..." Jo mused out loud, looking up at Dean as if he had completely lost his mind.<br>"Well, I was planning on helping you out of them later," he admitted, his eyes roving appreciatively over her before he shook himself out of his now escalating daydreams and draped the cardigan over her shoulders.  
>"I just thought that since we're, you know... dressed up like normal people, that maybe we should go do normal people things... 'couple' things," he explained, slapping Jo's hand away playfully as she examined his head for signs of a bump.<br>"Dean, are you asking me out to dinner?" she checked, unprepared to let herself believe that he wanted to take her on an actual, honest to goodness date.

"Well, yeah," Dean muttered, jamming his hands into the pockets of the smart grey trousers that he had decided he did not loathe quite as much now. "We've never really done that before."

"I guess we haven't," Jo admitted, the realisation of that sad fact dawning on her now also. The couple seemed to have fallen into a comfortable relationship pattern with ease, never really having required the customary 'dating' period that others did. After their showdown with Lucifer, the rebuilding of the roadhouse had consumed most of their time, leaving little to dedicate to other pursuits.

"I think I'd like that," Jo finally admonished, a sweet and somewhat coy smile breaking out across her face. Dean reached for her hand and tugged her towards his chest, pausing to run his fingers through her hair before laying a kiss against her forehead.

"I'd like it too," he agreed, pressing the tip of his nose against Jo's and grinning as she stood on tiptoes in order to initiate a kiss. Dean responded hungrily, his thoughts now having well and truly shifted from the hunt to much more pleasant considerations.

**x-x-x**

Shivering against the chill of early evening, Jo wrapped her arms around her body as she peered up at the frontage of the roadhouse. A pair of arms suddenly enclosed around her and she bestowed an excited smile upon Dean as he too stared up at the bar with an impatient expression.  
>"Alright Sammy, light her up!" Dean shouted, his eyes focused on the sign which almost immediately flickered to life. The words 'Harvelle's Roadhouse' were now lit up in neon orange above the main entrance.<p>

Jo clapped her hands in delight and spun around, looping her arms around Dean's neck as she hugged him exuberantly.  
>"You did it," Dean stated, glancing back at the roadhouse and nodding his approval.<br>"We did it," Jo corrected, rewarding him with a quick kiss before Sam joined them, three bottles of beer in his hands.

"Shouldn't this be champagne?" Sam queried before doling out the beers.

"You've seen the people who'll drink here, right?" Jo checked, one eyebrow arched. "You think I ordered any champagne Sammy?"

Sam nodded in understanding and grinned as he added, "Point taken."

"So," Dean began, raising his bottle skyward and gesturing for both Sam and Jo to do likewise, "to the new Harvelle's Roadhouse."

"May it be as successful, as profitable, and as welcoming as the last," Sam added, clinking his beer bottle with first Dean's and then Jo's.

With a smile, Jo finished, "And may it not be blown up, burned down, or otherwise raised to the ground."

"Amen to that," said Dean, wincing at the thought.

Holding their bottles aloft in one final gesture to the heavens, Jo, Dean and Sam each took a gulp of beer before a reflective silence interrupted the festivities. They remained in quiet contemplation as their thoughts drifted to the woman they each owed their life to.

Jo sighed, glancing up at the brothers as she took a deep breath and smiled resolutely, grateful for the chance at a future, and excited at the journey that lay before them.  
>"So I guess tomorrow we throw open the doors and roll out the welcome mat," Dean murmured, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the sign; the figurative final stone in their mammoth construction project.<p>

"I guess," said Jo, shooting a glance in the growing darkness at the sapling that stood to the right of the new roadhouse building. Jo was facing the prospect of reopening the business with evident trepidation, knowing that the place would never feel the same without Ellen around. However, as long as the tree stood watch over the building Jo would always feel as though some part of her mother remained by her side.

"Well, I'm gonna turn in," Sam said after a pause, stretching his arms above his head as an exaggerated yawn spilled from his lips. "Promised I'd help Bobby at the car yard tomorrow. Goodnight guys."

Jo and Dean mumbled their responses to Sam, who set off to spend his first night in his new room within the living quarters of the roadhouse. It would be a strange experience for them all, especially Jo who would now not only be occupying the largest bedroom but who would also be adjusting to sharing her quarters on a permanent basis.

"You coming?" Dean inquired, shooting Jo an understanding yet tired smile as he began to walk towards the entrance following Sam. A beat, and then Jo nodded, reaching out a hand to Dean as she walked through the darkness and up the steps of the front porch.

With a final glance up at the sign that she had once thought would never again be more than a memory, Jo Harvelle grinned and turned out the lights.

**The End of Episode One**

**(Next Episode – 'The Female of the Species')**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Authors' Note – Without further adieu, part one of episode two. Make our dreams come true, and why not review?**_

_**Episode Two – Part One**_

'_**The Female of the Species'**_

**x-x-x**

_**Charleston, South Carolina**_

_**May 4**__**th**__** 2011**_

Finally, the evening that Catherine Porter had been anticipating for the last thirteen months, two weeks, four days, six hours and approximately twenty-nine minutes, had arrived. In the bathroom of the honeymoon suite in one of the swankiest hotels that the entire state had to offer, Catherine gazed down at the silver band that nestled on the ring finger of her left hand, and smiled. Finally, Catherine Porter had ensnared her fiancée in the trap of matrimonial bliss, and she had become Mrs. Robert Jackson Wyatt. The name rolled so nicely off her tongue, and had done ever since she had met Rob four years ago.

Catherine let out a sigh of utter contentment that caused her entire body to shudder, and returned her attention to the mirror. She combed her fingers through to the ends of her auburn waves and pouted, deciding that she could perhaps use a third coat of coral lipstick as well as a fourth spritz of perfume.

Adjusting the strap of her negligee, Catherine reached for the tube of gloss from the counter and carefully ran the applicator over her lips. Replacing the tube beside the sink, she dabbed at a smudge above her top lip and cast a final gaze over her reflection. She reached for her powder brush and swept it across her cleavage, smiling to herself at the perfectly alluring image before her.

With another liberal squirt of perfume, Catherine flung open the bathroom door, and hoped that her groom would take note of the effort she had made that evening.

"Well, Mr. Wyatt, what do you think of your bride?" she drawled, arching an eyebrow seductively as she turned out the bathroom light and leant against the door frame with one arm stretched above her head. It was a pose she had seen women adopt in movies many times, and Catherine had done her fair share of studying in recent weeks. She had watched and then re-watched all kinds of movies from soft pornography to _'When Harry Met Sally'_ in order to ensure that she was well prepared for their wedding night. Of course they had already done 'it' more times than either could recall in the years they had been involved, but Catherine was adamant that their first time as a married couple aught to be extra special.

Catherine was somewhat nervous but above all excited, and she was certain that nothing short of a major global catastrophe could ruin the night. The entire wedding ceremony and reception had passed by her in a blur as Catherine's attentions remained focused upon what promised to be the first night of the rest of her life.

When the approving response Catherine had been anticipating failed to appear, she heaved a sigh and padded across the room, perching on the edge of the bed. As her hand rested on the cotton sheets her eyes were suddenly drawn to the warm, viscous fluid that bathed her skin. Tentatively, Catherine raised her hand to eye level and swallowed, hard.

A scream shattered the silence as Mrs. Catherine Wyatt's gaze fell upon the lifeless and decapitated body of her now late husband.

**x-x-x**

The utterly terrified shriek that emerged from Jo's mouth was so uncharacteristic in itself, that both Sam and Dean burst through the bathroom door in unison with guns drawn and eyes wide.

"Jo, what the..." Dean demanded, finding his girlfriend standing stark nude in the centre of the motel bathroom, her features frozen in a mask of fear that he had not witnessed even during their more gruesome hunts.

"Oh... God..." Sam spluttered, whirling around and propelling himself back through the bathroom door as he took in the sight of Jo's naked body with abject horror. On the other hand, Jo appeared not to have noted the appearance of the younger Winchester brother, instead too preoccupied with gesturing wildly to the far wall whilst babbling something unintelligible.

Dean frowned, noticing no obvious threats, and followed the direction of Jo's hand as she jabbed at the air.  
>"Spider!" Jo squeaked, directing Dean's gaze to the corner of the room. Dean squinted and slowly the small, brown arachnid that had recoiled against the wall came into focus. Dean was almost certain that if he could stare the poor creature directly in the face, it would be sporting an expression of horror identical to Jo's.<p>

"That?" he stared at Jo as if she had clearly lost her mind before he demanded, "that little thing?"  
>"Dean, I hate spiders," Jo stuttered, injecting the word 'hate' with venom. Pulling a towel around her body, Jo watched as Dean rolled his eyes and took a step toward the creature, which as though on cue began to scuttle in a zigzag pattern towards them.<p>

"Get it, kill it, get it!" Jo yelped, one word tumbling into the next in her panic. Dean shot Jo an amused glance and gestured to the weapon he still held in his hand.

"You want me to shoot it?" he checked, chuckling as Jo glared at him with murder on her mind.

"I don't care how," Jo seethed, visibly trembling now as the spider scuttled across the wall and down towards the linoleum, "just get rid of it. Now!"

His eyes dancing with the endless possibilities for mischief that were playing through his mind, Dean set down his gun and advanced upon the spider, which had just begun to weave it's way across the floor and towards Jo. Raising one boot high, Dean brought his foot down heavily atop the spider, wincing as he both felt and heard the tiny body crunch beneath the sole of his boot.

"Happy now?" Dean demanded, grimacing as he lifted his foot in order to examine the mess of guts that now adorned it. Jo shook her head, scattering droplets of water from her freshly washed hair.

"Not funny Dean," scolded Jo, her lips turned downwards into a frown that only caused Dean's amusement to peak further. "I don't make fun of you for being scared of flying."

"Hey, planes crash all the time," Dean retorted, his tone immediately defensive and his eyes adopting an almost comically haunted appearance, "when was the last time the common house spider was held accountable for the death of one hundred and forty tourists?"

Jo sighed and began to pat her hair dry with a clean towel, ignoring the smirk that still lay plastered across Dean's face. There was no way she was ever going to live this down; a fact that she recognised now. But the terror she had felt at having first encountered the creature had been far too immense to be reigned in by rational thought.

Jo had hated spiders since childhood, having awoken one night to find a rather large brown recluse sharing her bed covers. Her parents had come running, similarly armed, at the sound of her wails and thus Jo's hatred of arachnids had been born. Vampires, werewolves, zombies, demons and anything else the powers of darkness had to throw at them, Jo Harvelle could handle; spiders were simply another matter.

"Okay, so I... might... have overreacted," she allowed, avoiding Dean's gaze as he laughed out loud and gestured to the gun on the bathroom counter.  
>"Overreacted? Jo, you scared me half to death," Dean replied with a wry smile, feeling his heart rate gradually steadying. Hearing her screams had filled him instantly with dread and the images his mind had conjured up in the seconds before he reached her now seemed ridiculous.<p>

"Sorry," Jo mumbled, a pout beginning to form on her lips. Dean felt his resolve melting, the way it always did when Jo turned that same expression upon him; in an instant she managed to look so irresistibly innocent and alluring that Dean was helpless to retain his own free will against her. With a sigh, he pulled Jo into his arms and an embrace that left the front of his black t-shirt soaking wet.

"Next time, maybe just yell 'spider' first," Dean suggested, resisting the urge to laugh and instead placing a kiss against the crown of Jo's head. She nodded, withdrawing from his arms and gesturing through to the adjoining room.

"I think I scarred Sam for life," she said, wincing sheepishly at the chuckle that Dean was powerless to hold back.

"Sweetheart, I don't think the dreams he'll be having from here on out will be nightmares," Dean replied, arching an eyebrow and then frowning at the disturbing thought. He trusted both his brother and his girlfriend implicitly, and new beyond all doubt that their relationship did not extend beyond the bounds of friendship; however, the very idea of his brother having that kind of dream about Jo was thoroughly disconcerting.

"Anything else I can do?" Dean inquired, toying with the end of the towel Jo had tucked around herself, "scrub your back, or maybe help you out with that moisturiser?"

Jo shook her head, swatting at his hand and dissolving into giggles as he seized her around the middle.

"Dean, stop... stop," she protested half-heartedly, attempting to still his advances for no other reason than Sam's presence in the adjoining room. She figured that the younger Winchester had suffered enough already.

"Sam's next door," Dean reasoned, trying his best persuasive smile as he walked his fingertips along her shoulder. He leaned closer and watched the resolve slip from Jo's features, his own heartbeat beginning to thrum harder in anticipation.

Jo looped her arms around Dean's neck and he claimed her lips in an urgent kiss. Dean's quiet moan of pleasure became a groan of annoyance as a pointed cough resonated from the bedroom and succeeded in tearing the embrace apart.

"Uh... guys," Sam called out, becoming nervous at the silence that had suddenly descended, "there's something I think you should come take a look at."

Jo shot Dean a grin before waggling her fingers at him in a dismissive gesture. As Jo began to towel her hair dry, Dean rejoined Sam in the bedroom where he was pouring over a copy of what he assumed to be the local newspaper.

"What'cha got Sammy?" Dean demanded, seating himself backwards on a chair that was set around the table at which Sam sat with all manner of papers and books spread out before him. "I thought we were done here?"

The latter was more of a statement than a query, and Dean quirked a brow as Sam tapped the article on the front page of the newspaper in a meaningful fashion. Dean peered down at the newspaper, frowning at the headline that dominated the centre of the page.

"So some dude got offed on his wedding night, huh? Call that the epitome of unlucky," Dean said, wincing as he proceeded to skim the piece and was rewarded with a particularly grizzly and detail riddled murder story. "Wow, these small town journalists really dig the murder scoops."

"Tell me about it," replied Sam with a wry smile. "But this looks like it could maybe be up our street."

"What gives?" asked Jo, suddenly entering the bedroom from the en-suite, now fully clothed and running her fingers through to the ends of her damp hair. The motel at which they were currently staying was run down to say the least, and much to the trio's chagrin did not even contain a television in the guest rooms; instead it offered a kind of communal lounge area where entertainment was provided in the form of a scuffed pool table, a games machine, and an archaic looking computer that sported a permanent 'out of order' sign. Given this fact Jo figured that it was futile to hope that a hair dryer would be squirreled away somewhere in the lobby, and had instead become resolved to the fact that her hair would remain wild for the duration of their stay. With their current job resolved, Jo rather hoped that their exit would be a speedy one.

The hunters had arrived in the area to track a demon residing in the corpse of an oral hygienist, who had left a trail of bodies from Virginia to South Carolina. Whilst the motive of the demon had remained a mystery, they had succeeded in cornering it and exercising the host, who had passed away of natural causes even before his possession. The job had been a long and arduous one, and Jo was glad to see it over, having developed a dislike for the city that bordered on loathing. However, it now appeared that Sam had discovered some new potential hunt in the area that may anchor them to Charleston for the foreseeable future.

"Some guy got his head ripped off on his wedding night," said Dean, tearing into the wrapper of a candy bar that he had discovered in the pocket of his jeans. He licked his lips in anticipation before hungrily biting a chunk from the candy.

Jo peered over his shoulder at the article whilst snatching the candy bar from him before breaking off a chunk and popping it into her mouth with a satisfied smile.

Dean let out a theatrical sigh as Jo dropped the snack back into his hand, but he watched with interest as she sucked the remains of the melted chocolate from her fingertip. Immediately, Sam's cheeks and the tips of his ears turned beet red as he recalled the awkward moment that had occurred between he and Jo only minutes ago.

"Ripped off?" Jo queried, widening her eyes in order to raise a response from Dean who appeared momentarily lost in thought.

"Huh?" Dean shook his head, quickly regaining his senses and doing his best to ignore the exasperated groan he received from Sam.

"Yeah, the uh... the bride found him on their wedding night, head totally severed," Sam supplied, moving the article along the table toward Jo. Their fingertips brushed as Jo received the paper and the crimson hue of Sam's cheeks darkened by several shades.

"Clean cut?" Jo queried, her eyes skimming the image of the couple. She found it somewhat distasteful that the newspaper had decided to run the story accompanied by a wedding photograph taken mere hours before the groom had met his untimely end.

Sam winced yet a thoroughly ghoulish smile settled on his lips as he relayed the more macabre details of the crime, "No, actually the ME said it looked like it'd been bitten off."

"Nice," Jo said with a grimace, plopping down on the chair beside Dean who had been re- reading the article.

"We need to get a look at that body," said Dean, chewing and swallowing the remaining piece of his candy bar before deliberating once again over his plan. He then gestured emphatically to Sam, "_You_ need to get a look at that body."

"Me?" Sam protested, watching as Dean stood from the table and hastily pulled his t-shirt over his head as he prepared to change into more suitable clothing.

"Yup," Dean nodded, not missing a beat as he added, "and whilst you're doing that, Jo and I are gonna go talk to the blushing bride."

Jo shrugged, standing up and instantly rummaging through her gym bag as she located a clean shirt and pair of black tailored trousers. Any plan that involved her not having to poke around a corpse was more than okay with her, although judging from the petulant and unimpressed expression upon Sam's face, he was not quite as pleased with his allotted role.

"Hey, you want the stiff or the sobbing widow?" Dean challenged. Sam appeared to mull this over and finally nodded in agreement. The corpse would undoubtedly be a less troublesome encounter than a recently bereaved bride.

"I guess we're staying then," Jo muttered, her discontent at the prospect colouring her tone. Jo's lips twisted into a frown, which Dean met with a chuckle, finding his girlfriend's dislike of the quaint city to be a source of constant amusement. Jo was undoubtedly set in her ways and those ways were routed firmly in the twenty-first century. Whilst picturesque, Charleston held little appeal to Jo who favoured a more raucous environment, perhaps as a consequence of her having been born and raised in a bustling bar.

"Sucks huh?" Dean pressed, his amusement evident as he watched Jo twisting her hair up into a bun. Jo poked her tongue out at him and glared.

"Let's just get this job done and get back to the roadhouse," Jo said, directing a pointed glance at Dean as she added, "the sooner we get out of this hell-hole, the better."

"Look at it this way, sweetheart," Dean smirked as he looped a ready knotted tie around his neck and tugged it toward his collar, "could be worse, you could be going to poke at the headless guy."

Sam folded his arms across his chest, one eyebrow shooting up in response to Dean's goading quip. Standing up, Sam took a decisive step toward the door, intending to make his way to his own room to change.

"Guess I'll see you guys later," Sam said almost dubiously, and he grimaced slightly at the prospect of the afternoon that lay before him. Dead bodies were one thing but a headless corpse was a whole other kettle of proverbial fish.

"But Dean?" Sam paused in the now open doorway and pointed with intent at his brother, "next time, you get the dead guy and I get Kleenex duty!"

**x-x-x**

After thirty minutes in the company of Mrs. Catherine Wyatt, Dean was beginning to regret his own eagerness to avoid the morgue. Almost as soon as the woman had answered her front door, both Dean and Jo had realised that Sam would be in for an infinitely easier ride that day in the company of the stiff.

Catherine was a young woman in her mid-twenties who carried herself with the affected air of one who had not long been used to money or, indeed, polite company. Her black shirt revealed far too much heaving cleavage and she wore more make-up than was truly respectable for a supposedly grieving widow. Jo had swallowed her instant disdain for the woman and instead offered her a smile that Catherine had returned with her eyes trained unwaveringly upon Dean.

She had introduced herself by offering a manicured hand that she had thrust under Dean's nose as though she expected him to kiss it. Having realised that this was indeed what the woman was hinting at, Dean had shot her a thin smile and patted the back of her hand in the most patronising manner he could muster.

"Well," Jo huffed, dropping down into the passenger seat of the Impala, "she was a delight."  
>Dean nodded in agreement, closing the door and leaning wearily on the steering wheel, "Yep. Talk about the merry widow. Ya know... half an hour with her and I'm starting to think the guy chewed his own head off."<br>Jo grinned and pulled her hair free, running her fingers through it as she leant her elbow on the door and glanced across at him, "You think she did it?"  
>"Nah," Dean shook his head as he jammed the keys in the ignition, the engine roaring instantly to life, "those pearly whites she kept flashing me didn't look anywhere near pointy enough."<p>

Jo glanced up as she finished fastening her seatbelt and she affixed Dean with a decidedly withering glare, "Yeah, I thought you'd catch that."  
>"I'm like catnip to the ladies, what can I say?" Dean shrugged unapologetically, winking at Jo as he watched her arch an eyebrow in response. She bristled a little and Dean could not help but wonder if she was perhaps jealous.<p>

"You think you're so hot, don't you Winchester?" demanded Jo in a tone that Dean could not readily categorise; it hovered expertly somewhere between playful and dangerous, and Dean found himself unnerved by it. However, he maintained his bravado with a practiced ease.

"Oh I know it, sweetheart," he drawled, winking at Jo before beginning to pull away from the curb. From the lounge window of her newly inherited home, Catherine Wyatt watched the couple of FBI agents leave with the faintest of smiles playing across her lips.

"So what now?" asked Jo, twirling the dials of the Impala's radio as she searched for a station that was not offensive in its offerings. Dean shrugged, his gaze shooting to the radio as Jo settled on a channel that he knew to favour noxious eighties power ballads. Shrugging, Dean said nothing, internally marveling at the fact that had Sam done the same, he would immediately be lecturing and teasing his brother on his poor music tastes. Somehow, things with Jo were just different; equally as easy, but somehow ten times as difficult at the same time. Dean thought that he would never truly figure out the whole relationship thing, and certainly not the concept of loving someone who was not bound to him by blood. However, he had to admit that it was kind of nice.

"I guess we go back to the motel and see if Sam found the groom a little more forthcoming," he stated, watching Jo adjust the volume of the radio before he reached out and seized her hand within his own. He threaded his fingers through hers before pressing a kiss to the back of her hand and then shooting her a meaningful smile. Jo leant her head back against the warm leather and mirrored his expression. Their interlaced hands fell to rest on her thigh.  
>"Is it wrong that I kind of thought she wasn't..." Jo began, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully as uncertainty gripped her. Whilst Jo could have no idea how Mrs. Wyatt was feeling, just imagining losing the man she loved was enough to send her stomach plummeting in fear. It was not that Jo had necessarily expected some great emotional or dramatic outpouring, but she had figured a recently bereaved young woman might be more inclined to tears than breathy smiles and flirtatious glances.<p>

"What, she wasn't bawling enough?" Dean inquired, chuckling to himself as Jo blushed.  
>"I guess she could still be in shock," Jo mused, "I mean, the guy she loves did wind up dead on their wedding night."<p>

Jo winced as she decided that perhaps she had unfairly judged their witness.

Dean let out a low chuckle as he assured her, "I guess she could be. One thing's for sure, she's not our perp."

Jo nodded her agreement and returned her attention to the radio, still turning over the behaviour of Catherine Wyatt in her mind.

**x-x-x**

"So what did you find Sammy?" Dean hollered as he threw open the door of Sam's motel room and strode in, uninvited and unannounced. Sam looked up with a start from the table, where he stood over a battered looking microscope that had been in his possession since he had swiped it from a high-school somewhere in Memphis when he was fifteen. Sam had wanted a microscope for months, much to Dean's disgust, but given the fact that every spare scrap of cash was spent on ensuring that his boys simply had food in their bellies, John Winchester had failed to ever supply one. Dean knew that the microscope had been the first and last thing that Sam had ever stolen, but he also knew that to this day Sam felt horrible about the small misdemeanour.

"How do you know I found anything?" Sam shot back, folding his arms across his chest and shooting Dean a questioning glance.

"Saw you through the window looking over that thing," Dean answered, pointing in the direction of the microscope with a curled lip. "Figured you had to be looking at something of interest."

Sam peered through the eyepiece of the microscope one more time and leant back in his chair, arms folded across his chest.  
>"Honestly, I'm not really sure what I'm looking at. Pulled it off the groom's body... it was..." he swallowed against a wave of distinct nausea the memory evoked, "stuck in the... wound... area."<br>Dean arched an eyebrow and bent over the microscope, realising he'd probably have no clue what he was looking at, but wanting to satisfy his curiosity none the less.  
>"It looks like a hair... a long dog hair, maybe?" Dean frowned, baffled by Sam's slightly uneasy expression.<br>"Actually, I think it's from an insect," Sam replied, picking up the science textbook from the table beside him and tapping his finger against the images printed on the page.  
>Dean paused and cast a suitably confused glance at his sibling, "But this thing is like four inches long."<p>

Sam remained silent but nodded, his gaze instantly flitting toward the door as Jo knocked then strolled in clutching three chilled soda bottles in her hands. She deposited one to each of the brothers before taking a long swig from her own.  
>"You find something?" she asked interestedly, wondering what had prompted the use of the microscope. She knew Sam liked to 'go all CSI' as she jokingly called it and hoped it meant there had been some sort of break in the case.<br>Sam indicated towards the microscope, prompting Jo to eye both Winchesters with suspicion before she bent over the device and peered down the lens.  
>"Keep your hands off my ass, Dean," she warned, realising her current position would be all too inviting to her boyfriends wandering hands.<p>

"It's a hair," she announced after several seconds, clearly unimpressed with the find.  
>"It's uh... it's an insect hair," Sam stated, watching as all colour drained rapidly from her face.<br>Jo planted her hand on her hip and shook her head vigorously, "No way, that thing's like... four maybe five inches long..."  
>"It's a really... big bug," Dean frowned, staring down in a mixture of trepidation and contemplation at the hair that lay across the glass slide.<p>

"That's not even possible, right?" Jo stammered, clearly in a state of alarm. "Tell me that's not possible Sam?"  
>Sam swallowed hard, weighing up the plausibility of an insect large enough to yield such a hair. The creature would have to be at least five feet tall, if not more, and the prospect was one that caused even Sam to balk. As a child, Sam had never been a typical boy, in the sense that anything with more than four legs had served to instill in him a deep sense of dread. Dean was irritatingly nonplussed by anything of the nature, and had many a time planted something squirming and grotesque in Sam's bed just for kicks.<br>"No, I mean..." Sam attempted, trailing off as words failed him. Jo swallowed a mouthful of her soda before laying the bottle on the table before her.  
>"Oh come on you two," Dean scoffed, gently brushing Jo aside so as to gaze through the microscope once again. "It's probably nothing. I mean, who ever heard of a giant bug biting a guy's head off?"<br>"Well actually," Sam began, his features twisted into a characteristically thoughtful expression, "there are many insects that are known to sever the head from their prey. The praying mantis, several forms of spider..."

"Spider? A spider" Jo balked, her brown eyes widening in abject horror as she began to absently scrape her fingernails up and down the bottle nervously.  
>"Jo, calm down," Dean placated, glaring irritably at Sam for instilling such fear in his usually unflappable girlfriend, "it's not a giant spider, okay? It's not."<br>"You don't know that, Dean," Jo said ruefully, "last month it was giant Easter bunnies and now..." Jo swallowed hard, unable to finish her sentence.  
>Dean wrapped an arm around her waist in a comforting gesture and drew her into his side, "And on the off chance I'm wrong and this does turn out to be some giant, murderous arachnid, you can totally sit this one out. I won't even tease you... much."<br>Jo appeared to think this over momentarily and then shook her head, "No. If you go after this thing- whatever it is- I'm going with you."  
>Dean smiled, touched by Jo's concern; given her irrational but intense fear of spiders, Dean saw it as a testament of her feelings for him that she was willing to hunt a potentially enormous insect.<p>

Dean kissed the crown of her head and Jo nestled closer, although Dean assumed it was an unconscious gesture on her part as she continued to stare intently at the microscope slide. Dean felt her shudder against him, and could not resist walking his fingertips along her upper arm, imitating the scuttling movements of a spider. Jo wrenched herself from Dean's grip before slapping his chest.

"Not funny, Dean," she scolded, gesturing rudely at Dean who appeared somewhat shocked. Sam rolled his eyes at their playful sparring, and directed his attention back to the microscope. He almost felt a thrill of excitement course through him at the prospect of facing such a fascinating challenge; giant insects were certainly a new one, and he was mostly over his childhood unease with them now.

"Well, if you're right Sammy boy, I got one thing to say," said Dean, shooting Jo a wicked grin, "we're gonna need a bigger shoe."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Authors' Note – Raise your hand if you hate bugs! Sorry...**_

_**Episode Two – Part Two**_

'_**The Female of the Species'**_

_**x-x-x**_

Sitting down on the closed toilet lid, Lucy Neuman lowered her head between her knees and gulped in a few steadying breaths. She felt sick to the pit of her stomach, and the two glasses of champagne she had chugged at the reception before leaving had done little to calm her nerves. Suddenly, in the harsh light of the hotel bathroom, Lucy's plain white lace adorned underwear seemed all wrong; far too chaste and innocent for a wedding night. However, the complication lay within the fact that Lucy was both chaste and embarrassingly innocent. Of course, Jake had known this upon marrying her, especially given the fact that her wedding ring had replaced a promise ring that had been glued to her finger since junior high. Lucy's lack of experience had never proven a problem to Jake, however with such a monumental evening looming, Lucy had panicked and locked herself in the bathroom. After almost an hour in her fortress, she was now too embarrassed to re-emerge, and decidedly worried that Jake's attempts to coax her out had ceased just over thirty minutes ago.

Climbing to her feet, she tried desperately to control her shaking knees, and stared at her own reflection in the mirror. She gripped the edge of the sink for support with whitened knuckles.  
>"Come on Lucy," she chastised herself in a whisper, "pull it together."<p>

Exhaling through her teeth, the young woman reached out an unsteady hand and inched the door open. Her heart hammered in her chest as she emerged from the safety of the bathroom.  
>"Jake?" Lucy stepped toward the bed, folding her arms across her chest. "Sweetheart, can we... can we just talk?"<p>

Lucy's eyes widened in horror and her hand fluttered to her mouth. Stumbling backwards across the room, she tumbled over her husband's discarded shoes and landed with a thud on the carpet. Scuttling backwards on all fours, Lucy was finally able to find her voice and her sickened scream filled the air.

**x-x-x**

Dean leaned over the expansive bed, which had been stripped of all sheets and bedding, leaving only a blood soaked mattress on view. Sam stood at the opposite end of the room, deep in conversation with a deputy from the local sheriff department, who was regarding the younger man with an evident lack of interest. Grimacing, Dean eyed the soiled mattress; he felt kind of bad for the poor girl who had discovered her decapitated husband, especially when Sam had mentioned that she was fresh out of high school. It was an image that would no doubt stick with her for the rest of her days and, whilst a hunter grew accustomed to such sights in their career, they never failed to appreciate the tragedy behind them.

"Thank you very much Deputy, we'll be in touch soon," Sam said, shooting his most professional smile at the officer, who shuffled out of the bedroom with a grunt.

"Cheery guy," Dean observed, arching an eyebrow at the retreating figure of the ancient deputy, who bore an uncanny resemblance to the Crypt Keeper in Dean's opinion.

"Not a whole lot to be cheery about, I guess," Sam sighed, casting his gaze over the blood stained bed and the red puddle that had soaked through the carpet below.  
>"Door was locked from the inside, no signs of forced entry," Dean glanced around the room furtively and then shrugged, "I got nothin', Sammy."<br>He rested his hand on the nearby dresser, his expression changing almost instantly as his skin was met with something cold and unsettling sticky. Dean closed his eyes, a shudder running up his spine as he considered all the possibilities, before he pulled his hand back in order to gaze down at his palm.  
>"What the hell is that?" he shook his hand furtively as Sam simply shrugged, "it's like freakin' crazy glue."<p>

Dean waggled his fingers, dismayed to find that the strange substance was quickly bonding them together. Sam approached almost hesitantly and gestured for Dean to raise his hand towards the light that filtered in through the open door. Frowning in concentration, Sam produced a small plastic tube from his pocket, unscrewed the cap, and began scraping a sample of the sticky white goop from Dean's skin with a toothpick, which he then dropped into the tube.

"Can I wash my hands now?" Dean demanded, not bothering to await an answer as he disappeared into the bathroom. Sam peered down at the dresser from which the substance had originated, crouching down to eye level with the top and squinting in order to see better. There were remnants of a stringy matter clinging to the leg and the table, but Sam made no move to touch it, and instead simply stared.

"What does that look mean?" asked Dean as he sauntered back into the crime scene, wiping his wet hands on the legs of his pants. Sam glanced up and cocked his head to one side.

"It's just a theory at the moment so I'd rather not say," Sam explained, standing up once again and dropping the sample into his pocket. "We should get back and see if Jo had any luck with the insect guy."

Dean chuckled at the thought. Jo had been horrified by the prospect of meeting with the entomologist at the local University, especially considering she would be visiting him at his home where she feared she would encounter all manner of horrendous crawling beasts.

Sam grinned as he considered the possible consequences of Jo's hour with the professor and suddenly found himself pitying his older brother, "Dude, she's gonna have nightmares for weeks, I hope you realise."  
>Dean frowned, envisioning sleepless nights of kicking, punching and screaming - and not the good kind of screaming either.<br>"Hey, she volunteered to go," Dean shrugged, examining the window for signs of the perpetrator's exit or entry, "she's got this bee in her bonnet about you and me having quality time together."

Although Dean scoffed, deep down he found Jo's consideration for his sibling bond with Sam touching. One of the many things he loved about Jo was her acceptance and support of the close relationship that existed between him and Sam. Jo readily acknowledged that the circumstances of their childhood meant that not only did they share a close bond as brothers, but that Dean had in effect become the most stable and significant father figure in Sam's life.

In Jo, Dean had found someone who not only understood and actively participated in their hunting life, but someone who loved him as he was; warts and all. Aside from his penchant for eating cookies in bed, Jo had never made any attempt to change the person Dean had become. She knew that having Sam in his life was vital to his happiness and, unlike other women who would perhaps feel threatened by this, Jo actively pushed what she liked to call 'Winchester time' on the brothers- whether they wanted it or not. In this case, even if it had meant a stroll through a bug infested house.

Dean cast a glance down at the street below; the cars were almost indistinguishable from and the pedestrians scuttled about like ants. Fleeing a crime scene from the eleventh floor window was highly unlikely for the garden variety criminal, but unfortunately for Dean, he knew their brand of murderer more than likely had a little supernatural assistance- therefore leaving nothing impossible.

Sam snapped a few photographs of the crime scene on his cell phone and then headed toward the door, Dean following close behind.  
>"I uhm... I really like Jo," Sam said thoughtfully, pausing in the doorway.<br>"Yeah, me too," Dean replied with a smirk, suddenly shooting his brother a somewhat challenging glare as he added, "and you can erase all memory of what you saw this morning!"

"Already done," Sam answered, holding his hands up to Dean in a surrendering gesture and swallowing hard, "trust me. I don't think of Jo... in those ways."

"I know, I was just messin' with ya," said Dean, a wide grin breaking out as he watched Sam squirm. The younger Winchester pursed his lips before deciding to continue, despite his brother's immaturity.

"I mean, I think she's good for you... 'us' even," Sam murmured, jamming his hands into his pockets and hanging his head a little as the subject matter began to creep in the direction of those things which Sam and Dean did not ordinarily discuss. "I like seeing you happy. And for what it's worth, I think Jo will make you happy for a long time."

"Thanks Sam," said Dean after a lengthy pause had subsided. Somewhat awkwardly, Dean patted Sam on the back between his shoulder blades. "Now, if you're done getting in touch with your feminine side, I'm hungry."

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed a little. "You're an ass, you know that Dean?"

"Bitch," Dean simply replied, an affectionate gleam present in his eyes as he shot Sam a look.

Without missing a beat, Sam retorted, "Jerk."

**x-x-x**

Jo's lip curled in disgust as she watched both Winchester brothers happily devouring their lunches, their thoughts clearly focused on the towering plates of grilled cheese sandwiches before them. Whilst Jo prided herself on her strong stomach, an hour with the 'bug guy' had been enough to put her off food for the remainder of the afternoon at least. It would definitely take a while to drive the images of thousands of tiny wriggling legs and antennae from her mind.

"Sure you're not hungry?" Dean checked in between mouthfuls, waving his plate around teasingly in front of Jo who blanched at the very idea.  
>"Please yourself," Dean said with a wink as he chomped through his sandwich and closed his eyes at the blissful taste of gooey, melted cheese.<br>Jo felt her stomach lurch in protest and she took a sip of soda, trying to focus her attention on the crime scene photographs laid out before them on the table. She glanced up at Dean who sat beside her in the booth and smiled weakly as he patted her thigh before nodding toward the file spread out on the table.  
>"So, did we get a 'most wanted' list from the professor?" Dean enquired, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. He balled up the paper and then tossed it across the tabletop.<p>

"Take a look." Jo screwed up her nose and directed her gaze away from the file, ignoring the smirk that crept across Dean's lips as he watched her from the corner of his eye.

Sam noted Jo's complexion pale as she could not help but glance at the glossy photographs Dean had begun rifling through; Sam assumed it was the same morbid curiosity that all hunters possessed. No matter how big, bad or ugly a creature may be, such things never failed to evoke a morbid sense of interest.  
>Dean frowned as he struggled to make out the image in one of the pictures. He turned the paper upside down before finally nodding in understanding, "That is one ugly mother..."<br>"Can I get you anything else?"

Sam smiled appreciatively at the diner waitress as she appeared as if from nowhere beside their table, pad in hand, pencil poised at the ready.  
>"You got any pie?" Dean scratched his chin and allowed the photograph he had been examining to fall from his fingers, his interest suddenly misplaced.<br>"We sure do," the older woman replied with a goofy grin, "we got pecan, cherry, apple, chocolate, vanilla cream, blueberry, and pumpkin. What'll it be, hon?"  
>Dean smiled, his eyes twinkling in sheer delight at the variety of choices he had been presented with. Dean appeared to be deep in contemplation for a moment before he announced, "I'll take a slice of pecan, whipped cream on the side." He squinted as he read the name tag pinned to her chest, "Thanks Doris."<p>

A blush rose up on the apples of the somewhat elderly woman's cheeks as the rarely-failing Winchester charm worked its magic.  
>"Make that two, thanks," Jo chimed in, shrugging as both Dean and Sam affixed her with a surprised expression. Doris gathered the empty plates and glasses from the table before sashaying back towards the kitchen.<br>"What?" Jo shrugged, skimming the menu with indifference, "it's pie!" She stated the fact as though it negated any previous claims of having lost her appetite.

Dean beamed at Jo with the faintest trace of pride evident on his face. Clearly Jo had her priorities in order - pie was pie, after all.

"The pictures?" Sam prompted, reaching across the table and extracting the prints from Dean's hand, ignoring the irritated glare he received. Sam flipped through the pile of photographs quickly, his eyes widening at image after image of grizzly looking insect.

"Ain't they a pretty bunch?" Dean quipped, grinning as Doris returned to the table and proceeded to set down two plates on the table. Dean seized his fork and stabbed his generous slab of pie with relish as Jo proceeded to pick more demurely at the crust of her own.

"What are you kids up to?" Doris asked, leaning over the table and spluttering as her eyes befell the numerous photographs depicting blood splattered crime scenes and corpses.

"Don't worry ma'am," Sam soothed, holding his jacket out to one side briefly so as to exhibit the FBI badge he had pinned to the pocket of his shirt. The waitress breathed a sigh of relief before affixing a curious glance upon the photographs.

"Are you investigating the murder of that poor young man? So tragic," Doris clucked, her blue eyes gleaming with the promise of gossip.

"I've known Jenny's mom, Lynette, since she was knee high to a grasshopper. Oh, that poor child," she pressed her hand over her heart for effect, "I can't imagine how I'd have felt if that had been my Harry... and on their wedding night too."  
>"Jenny?" Jo glanced up questioningly, her fork poised in mid air as she failed to recognise the name. She was almost certain that the latest bride had been called Lori or Lucy, whilst she could hardly forget Catherine Wyatt, the first widow who had worked so hard to make a lasting impression on Dean.<br>"Well yes, darlin'- Jenny Simpson." Doris planted her hand on her hip and regarded the three curiously, "That is what y'all are here investigating, right? Young Brian Simpson's murder?"  
>"Right, yeah. Over at the uh..." Dean clicked his fingers, as if the information were on the tip of his tongue.<br>"Lincoln Hotel..." Doris supplied, her expression conveying her slight suspicion. Doris was a regular fan of the law shows, and had always operated under the impression that the authorities were all-knowing. She was decidedly unimpressed and somewhat disappointed to see that the supposed FBI agents before her appeared rather clueless.

"Lincoln," Dean tapped the side of his head and smiled charmingly, "hey uh... Doris, you wouldn't happen to know Jenny's... uh... Mrs. Simpson's address, would you? It'd save us having to go back to the office and you'd be helping out with a federal investigation. We'd really appreciate it."  
>"Well yes, she's at her momma's house over on Gardner Street," Doris frowned as she worked to recall the exact number, all the while tapping her pencil against her notepad, "2113, I think. Just look for the house with the green mailbox."<p>

"Will do," Dean nodded, watching as Sam jotted down the address and Jo scrambled to gather the files together from the table. "Oh, and Doris, could we get this pie to go?"

**x-x-x**

Jo raised her balled fist to the door in preparation to knock but before her knuckles could even connect with the wooden panel, the door was flung open. The woman revealed upon the threshold reminded Jo immediately in her countenance of Ellen, and Jo felt a familiar pang of grief assault her heart. Pushing it aside quickly, Jo offered the woman what she hoped was a genuine smile. The woman however simply glowered at both she and Dean in turn, her arms hugging her own body in an undeniably defensive manner. Her scowl was impressive but Jo was not to be cowed, realising that the life of yet another man potentially hung in the balance.

"Hello, my name is Agent Bell and this is my partner, Agent..." Jo began, her mind working rapidly to fit Dean with a suitable alias. However, she was cut off before she could complete her introduction.

"I don't give a rats ass who the hell you are, get off my front porch," the woman growled, her rudeness somewhat surprising Dean, who gave the woman a second appraisal. She wore tight blue jeans and a green tank top, and sported dark brown curls that had been scooped back into a messy ponytail. She bore tell-tale dark circles under her eyes that were also red rimmed, and Dean recognised a woman in the throes of grief.

"Are you Mrs. Jenny Simpson?" Dean demanded, deciding to change tack given the woman's apparent mood.

"Jenny's my daughter," the woman, who must have been the 'Lynette' that Doris had spoken of, barked in response. She began to slam the door closed in the faces of the two 'agents'. Dean's foot shot out and wedged itself in the gap before Lynette had time to react. For a moment, she looked as though she may actually stomp on his foot to prompt him to withdraw it, but then she seemed to think better of that idea.

"Ma'am, we're from the FBI," Dean drawled, hoping to make her slightly less hostile and infinitely more forthcoming, "if we could just take a few minutes of your daughter's time..."  
>"I don't care if you're angels of the lord... get off of my front porch, I won't tell you again," she snapped, her eyes narrowing to furious slits as she watched both agents take hesitant steps backwards.<br>"Ma'am..." Dean cleared his throat and his eyes widened in surprise as the woman hastily interrupted his schpiel.  
>"If you 'ma'am' me one more time kid, I swear to Lucifer..." she glowered, jamming the door harder against Dean's foot, forcing him to retract or else lose the offending limb.<br>"If Jenny remembers anything, anything at all that might be helpful..." Jo smiled weakly, gingerly offering the woman a business card which was snatched from her hand with a testy sigh.

"Well I'll be sure to tell her you called in between the heart-broken sobbing," Lynette replied sardonically, looking Jo up and down and then suddenly planting a hand on her hip as her gaze wandered beyond the young hunter to the yard behind.

"And what in the hell do you want?" she yelled out, causing both Dean and Jo to turn hastily in the direction of her reignited fury. From behind a lavish array of flowers, the slightly paled face of a delivery boy greeted them, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard and forced a smile.  
>"Delivery for uh..." he scanned the clipboard in his hand and faltered, "Mrs. Simpson?" He sniffled as the petals of several long stemmed lillies tickled his nostrils.<br>"Gimme those," Lynette sighed irritably, snatching the bouquet from him and then eying him impatiently.  
>"Run kid, run," Dean hissed, glaring at the boy askance as his feet appeared almost rooted to the spot. Nodding, the delivery boy took off in the direction of the safety of his waiting van, eager to escape Jenny's mother.<p>

"My daughter has been through enough," Lynette said, emphasising her final word clearly. "She's told you chuckleheads everything she knows and then some, so why don't you just get back to doing your jobs and catch the evil son of a bitch that killed my son-in-law?"

"We understand that this is..." Dean began, his hands raised in front of his body as he spoke. The woman cut him off with a look.

"You understand shit," she hissed, snatching the card from the bouquet she now held and scanning it. Her expression softened a little as she muttered, "From Kelly. How sweet."

"Kelly?" Jo pressed, realising that she was risking incurring the woman's wrath once more but curious nonetheless.

"The wedding coordinator; not that it's any of your business. Kelly Phillips', new in town, all the brides are going crazy to get on the client list," Lynette replied, cradling the bouquet to her chest and quirking an eyebrow at the two agents who seemed intent to linger on her porch despite her very real threats. "Anything else? Maybe you want to know where Jenny bought her shoes?"

"Just one thing actually," Jo said, her smile tight but unyielding as Dean shot her a look that was half incredulous and half admiring. After less than ten minutes in the volatile company of Jenny's mom, he was more than ready to beat a retreat back to the car. Apparently, Jo was feeling suicidal.

"Would you happen to know if either Mrs. Wyatt or Mrs. Neuman used the same wedding... er... coordinator as your daughter?" Jo inquired, her brow furrowed as she peered at Jenny's mother, willing her to answer the question with at least a degree of civility.

"What the hell makes you think I'd know something like that?"

"This is a small town, I'm sure if you think real hard," Jo retorted, her patience beginning to fray now. Dean shot Jo a warning glance, hoping for everyone's sake that she managed to continue to reign in the infamous Harvelle temper. He had to admit that the woman before them seemed to be doing all she could to provoke it, but Dean was smart enough to know that a blowout on the front porch would simply serve to direct unwanted attention in the hunters' direction. Jo took a steadying breath and Dean could see her anger building behind her eyes.

"I don't know about Catherine Wyatt; never had much to do with _that_ family," Lynette sniffed in a fashion that actually endeared her just a little to Jo, "but Lucy's mom recommended Kelly to my daughter. Something about a ten percent fee reduction."

"Do you have Kelly Phillips' contact information?" Jo pressed, leaning slightly forwards now in anticipation. The woman's jaw set and she reached around the front door to grip the outer edge.

"What do I look like? Your damned secretary?" she demanded, her sourness returning, "you're the law, go investigate."

With that, Lynette closed the front door with a resounding slam. Seconds later, the sound of numerous locks sliding into place dismissed the presence of the two 'agents' who stood regarding each other in disbelief.

"You got a death wish today, blondie?" Dean asked, arching an eyebrow as they made their way toward the Impala.  
>Jo smiled and leant her hand on the top of the car as she reached for the handle with the other, "I think her bark's worse than her bite, Dean."<br>Dean chuckled, not envisioning ever being brave enough to prove or disprove that theory.

"Remind you of someone?" he asked. The trace of a sentimental smile settled on his lips as he turned to regard Jo in the passenger seat. She returned the smile, nodding silently and trying her best not to let her emotions get the better of her as she felt Dean's hand slip around the back of her neck in a gesture of comfort.  
>"She just wants to protect her daughter," Jo reasoned, her mind reeling at the memory of her own mother's final act of maternal sacrifice. Dean leant his head back against the seat rest and stared at the sun visor, hesitantly attempting to give voice to his own feelings.<br>"I miss her too, Jo," he finally murmured, "not like you, I know, but Ellen was as close to a mom as Sam and I ever got, and I miss her."

Jo blinked back tears as she shook her head in reply. Her throat began to burn threateningly, and Jo covered her mouth with the back of her hand.

Dean drew her closer and kissed her forehead, before wrapping an arm around her and drawing her into an embrace. He remained in awe of the sacrifice Ellen Harvelle had made for her daughter, and every morning Dean awoke to find Jo wrapped in his arms he gave a silent prayer of thanks to the woman who had allowed it to be so. Dean knew how it felt to be willing to give your life for those you loved; he had after all done so for his brother, just as he now would for Jo.

Jo sucked in a series of deep, steadying breaths, her hand resting flat against Dean's chest as she finally exhaled. Her warm breath drifted across the back of his neck and excited a pleasant tingle within him.  
>"I'm okay," Jo assured him, wiping the pads of her thumbs beneath her eyes to catch tears that had not even been shed. She wriggled free of his embrace and explained quickly, "Don't want the neighbours talking."<br>Dean shrugged flippantly before jamming his keys into the ignition as he briefly scanned the windows of the nearby houses for curtain-twitchers, "Hey, if it was good enough for Mulder and Scully."  
>Jo laughed and reached for her seatbelt, glancing up into the mirror to ensure her hair remained looking somewhat respectable.<p>

"I guess we have a wedding planner to talk to," she stated as she gazed out at the landscaped gardens of the houses they drove by.  
>"Wedding coordinator," Dean corrected with a smirk, watching Jo roll her eyes and lean her elbow on the car door.<br>"Whatever," said Jo with a grin. She was anticipating their imminent meeting only slightly less than she had her interview with the 'bug guy' earlier that morning.  
>"You think she looks like J-Lo?" Dean asked, waggling his eyebrows gleefully as they drew to a halt at an intersection.<br>"In your dreams, Dean," Jo sighed, only half serious in her despair.

"Nah, you got the starring role in those, sweetheart," he assured her, winking as he cast Jo a final sideways glance.  
>"Really? Cos Brad Pitt's still the major player in mine," she retorted, dissolving into giggles at the wounded expression Dean directed at her.<p>

"Let's just focus on the case here," Dean huffed. Whilst he could appreciate Jo's wit, he preferred when it was not focussed upon him specifically. Dean found himself far more amused when Sam or some other unfortunate soul had become the butt of Jo's jokes.

"Sure thing," was Jo's reply, complete with a devilish grin that Dean chose to ignore. Jo's expression sobered as she added, "Should we check in with Sam, and maybe see what he discovered from the samples you took at the crime scene?"

Dean contemplated this for a while, and then finally shook his head.

"Nah, I think we should go see our Miss. Phillips before some other poor schmuck ends up losing his head on his wedding night," Dean replied, his eyes trained on the road ahead, where the evening traffic was just beginning to reach a peak.

"We don't know for sure it's her," Jo reminded him. "She could be innocent in all this."

"Sure," Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes and sporting an expression that made his thoughts on the matter evident. "At least two of the victims have the same wedding planner in common... it doesn't take a genius to work it out. If Kelly Phillips is innocent, then I'm the queen of England."

"Well alrighty then," Jo breathed, beginning to load her handgun despite her warning to Dean. "I just hope you're right about this one Dean."

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he added, "Honey, when have I ever been wrong?"

**x-x-x**

The offices belonging to Kelly Phillips Wedding Designs were exactly as Jo had imagined them to be; fussy, girly, and brimming with all things of a remotely matrimonial nature. Fluffy, pastel carpets, towering vases of exotic flowers, and an overpowering scent of gardenia room spray had attacked their senses upon arrival. The walls were lined with pictures of smiling couples and wedding parties, which the hunters could only assume were representative of past clients.

"Dude looks like he's auditioning for the Osmond's reunion tour." Dean grimaced as he stared at one of the photographs affixed to the corridor wall. He shook his head in disapproval at the white suits and bubblegum pink waistcoats the groom and ushers were sporting.

"Oooh, nice. Real tasteful," Jo giggled, altogether appalled by the outfits, yet finding herself oddly touched by the adoring looks passing between the bride and groom.  
>A sappy grin that Dean quickly intercepted settled on Jo's lips and Dean nudged her affectionately, finding the brief interludes of femininity both amusing and appealing.<br>"Shut up," Jo instructed as she rolled her eyes and tutted at the teasing she felt sure was about to commence, "they just look happy, that's all. Can we please go find the giant insect now?"

"Your wish is my command," Dean answered, struggling to contain his laughter as he followed after Jo, who pushed open the double doorway before her and strode with purpose into the office ahead.

A secretary glanced up from behind her desk with obvious surprise as the hunters burst through the doorway. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on the end of the woman's nose, and she surveyed the intruders over the rims with evident distaste.

"Can I help you?" she demanded, her lip curling into a snarl that Dean chose to ignore. Instead, he thrust his fake badge into the secretary's face, and waited for her to become more compliant. When she simply sneered in response, Dean blanched for a moment.

"We're with the FBI," Jo began, flipping her fake ID open and allowing the secretary the briefest of glimpses. The woman let out a derisive snort and Jo appeared taken aback for a moment.

"Unless you have an appointment, you're still not getting through that door," the secretary replied, her tone remarkably cool as she inclined her head towards a door that sported a gold nameplate reading 'K. Phillips'.

"Ma'am, I'm not sure if you heard us right, but we're with the FBI..." Dean tried again, wondering what on earth was wrong with the inhabitants of this town, who all seemed strangely immune to the usual effects of an FBI badge. Admittedly a fake FBI badge, but they were not to know that; and their lack of obedience was starting to become tiresome.  
>"I heard you just fine, sweetpea," she replied snootily, dropping an address card into an old fashioned rolodex with a perfectly manicured hand, "but our appointments are booked up until December... 2013. I don't even get a lunch break." Her Southern drawl was lazy as she drummed her fingernails on the desk top, "I've lost ninety pounds since I've worked here... ninety pounds."<p>

"I'll be sure to let Oprah know." Dean smiled tightly, his patience now wearing thin with the case, and the thoroughly awkward and argumentative townsfolk.  
>She awarded Dean an irritated glare, both eyebrows arching as she glanced at the appointment books before her and added, "So unless you're the 'soon to be' Mr. and Mrs. Jason Stirling, I'm sorry to say that you're shit out of luck."<br>Jo blinked at the choice words and peered up at Dean who shook his head in an equal measure of exasperation.  
>"Have a nice day, agents," the secretary dismissed them with a broad smile suddenly thawing her cold expression as she spied a couple strolling through the door, arm in arm.<p>

"We need a moment with Miss. Phillips," Jo insisted, leaning across the desk and deliberately invading the secretary's personal space. The woman seemed only to glean amusement from Jo's movements, her eyes sparkling in delight.

"Miss. Phillips is indisposed," she replied, struggling to bite back a smile that puzzled both Dean and Jo. "So I suggest you either make an appointment or leave disappointed."

Dean jabbed a finger menacingly at the secretary, who feigned a yawn, as the hunter promised with vehemence, "This is not over, lady."

"Bored now," snapped the secretary, beginning to reach for the telephone that was situated on her desk. Her already beady eyes narrowed further as she stared at Dean in warning. "You want in, I suggest you come back with a warrant."

Jo and Dean left the building similarly furious. The walk back down to the Impala was a silent one as each of the hunters stewed over their annoyance, and the seemingly fruitless day they had wasted on the case. Both were now sorely tempted to call it a day and reduce the whole ungrateful town to nothing more than a speck in the rear view mirror. However, Dean realised that, once they had calmed down, their consciences would never allow them to live with the decision of leaving a potentially giant bug to feast on the men folk of Charleston.

"Was there anything about that that did not seem suspicious to you?" Dean finally muttered as he slipped into the driver's side of the Impala, his teeth gritted.

"Sketchy as hell," replied Jo, pursing her lips as Dean noted she did often when something had rubbed her up the wrong way.

"Next move?" Dean prodded, drumming his hands on the wheel as the hunters paused to deliberate over their next plan of action. The latest case was proving a decidedly tricky one and now both Winchester boys had joined Jo in her eagerness to draw a line under it.

"Aside from calling it a day and heading home?" Jo sighed, shaking her hair free from the elastic band that held it.  
>"Home is looking pretty damn good right about now," Dean stated with a sage nod of agreement. He briefly wondered about the ease with which he now came to regard the roadhouse as 'home'; yet the word flowed freely from his lips and he knew he was just as keen to get back to the bar as his girlfriend.<p>

Jo's irritated groan suddenly punctuated the silence and she waved her hand as she added, "But there's the whole innocent people dying thing and yadda, yadda, yadda."

"Always the 'yadda, yadda, yadda'," Dean agreed as the engine of the Impala roared to life and the deflated duo headed back to the motel.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Authors' Note – You all forgot that we love reviews didn't you? Cos we do. Love them. Just, throwing that out there.**_

_**Episode Two – Part Three**_

'_**The Female of the Species'**_

_**x-x-x**_

It had been a unanimous decision among the hunters that pizza and beer were required to lift their collective sour moods. Whilst Jo and Dean had received a hostile reception at Kelly Phillips' office, Sam had been unable to identify the mystery substance they had discovered in the hotel room beyond the fact that it contained trace levels of amino acids, and a substance that Sam was relatively sure was unknown to science.

Jo munched on a triangle of pizza, her eyes unpleasantly heavy and her spirits still low despite the two six packs that she, Sam and Dean had ploughed through.

"This job sucks," Jo mused aloud, placing her pizza onto the table in front of her and lifting her beer bottle to her lips. Instead of taking a sip, she simply blew down the neck of the bottle, extracting a low whistle. Dean shot her a glance before helping himself to his fourth slice of pizza in ten minutes. The lack of success they were having with their current case was doing little to dampen his appetite it seemed.

"Have to agree there," Sam mumbled in between mouthfuls of food. Sam had opted out of his usual garden salad in favour of indulging in fries, pizza and chicken wings, which to Dean surely signified that his brother was growing as irritated by the case as both he and Jo were.

"So what do we do about this wedding planner?" said Dean, licking tomato sauce from his fingers with satisfaction. "Since a warrant is out of the question. How do we know who she's gunning for next?"

"Shouldn't we try to work out what we're up against before we even think about how we take it out?" Jo countered, her brows raised in concern, "we made that mistake last month and where did it get us? In the company of a giant bunny that we couldn't kill."

"She did turn into a naked lady eventually, so it wasn't all bad," Dean answered, unable to resist a smirk.

Jo swallowed her mouthful of beer and rolled her eyes in amused disdain. Setting the bottle down on the nightstand, she sprawled across the bed on her stomach and leaned across Dean to retrieve her half eaten pizza slice.  
>"If we're brain storming, we're gonna need more pizza," Dean announced decisively, slapping Jo playfully across the rear as his eyes roved her body.<br>"Dean!" she huffed, frowning as the sudden jarring action forced a piece of mushroom to fall from her pizza slice. It landed in a greasy splodge on the page of the newspaper beside her and Jo grinned as he simply shot her an apologetic smile then threw the mushroom slice into his mouth with a flourish.

Sam retrieved the pizza takeout menu from the dresser and fished his cell phone from his pocket. He glanced up as Jo suddenly raised her hand to gain his attention.  
>"And brownies!" she ordered, dabbing ineffectually at the tomato sauce stain on the back page of the newspaper with a napkin. She ignored the violent shaking of the bed caused by Dean throwing himself down beside her on the mattress, and instead Jo became engrossed in scanning the newspaper.<p>

"Floyd?" Dean grimaced, reading the 'Births, Marriages and Deaths' page over Jo's shoulder, and shuddering for effect, "wow, poor kid."  
>Jo managed a grunt of acknowledgement as she chewed slowly. She shuffled the newspaper closer toward Dean, tapping her finger over one particular section.<br>Dean stared at her askance. He waited until Jo had swallowed her food for a more enlightening verbal response. Jo groaned in exasperation and flicked the paper again, hurriedly chewing through the overly stringy mozzarella. In hindsight, she wondered if extra cheese may have been a bad idea.

"Timmy's down the well?" Dean frowned for effect, earning himself a swift slap across the head which he shook off with ease, having grown so accustomed to them of late.

Jo swallowed hard and grabbed the paper.

"No idiot, the marriages section," she retorted, as though the few words should be self explanatory. When she was met with yet another puzzled look from Dean, Jo decided to elaborate. "Some of these articles list the name of the wedding coordinator, if they've hired one."

"Right," Dean drawled, then suddenly as understanding flooded him, he nodded and reiterated, "right!"

"Is Kelly Phillips mentioned in any of them?" Sam demanded, lowering his cell phone and joining Dean and Jo on the bed.

"Four out of six articles," Jo declared, her features brightening and her tone laden with pride. "Seems like she really is big news in this town."

"I'll call Bobby," Sam offered, "see what he makes of the evidence so far. Maybe he can ID this thing, and hopefully find a way for us to put it down."

"Next wedding is tomorrow morning," Dean observed, grabbing a highlighter and scouring a section of the page with luminous yellow ink. "I say we rock up incognito, follow the lucky couple back to their hotel room, and wait for Itsy Bitsy to put in an appearance."

"We still don't know it's a spider," Jo said, visibly balking at the very idea. She was desperately clinging onto the hope that the creature would prove to be something other than her most feared adversary.

"No, but even so," Dean began, creeping his fingertips along Jo's shoulders, "you're a girl, it's not gonna chow down on your pretty blonde head."

Jo shot him a thoroughly dubious expression, biting back the giggle she felt trying to escape her lips as Dean deftly rolled onto his back and settled Jo above him. He gripped her hips and squeezed affectionately.  
>Sam pondered Dean's plan aloud, "So, we're gonna crash a wedding?"<br>"You got a better idea?" Dean shrugged, watching as Sam tossed possibilities around in his head before dropping down into the nearest chair in defeat.  
>"No," he rather grudgingly conceded.<p>

"That's settled then," Dean said, pausing to kiss Jo's bottom lip before continuing in an imitation hick drawl. "Get a haircut Sammy, we're going to watch some folks get hitched."

**x-x-x**

Jo took a moment to marvel at how recently the nature of their cases seemed to have taken a decidedly surreal turn, whilst also involving far more formal wear than was usual. Although she was rarely a fan of getting dressed up, Jo had to admit that she was enjoying the opportunity to explore her more feminine side, especially with Dean Winchester around to witness it. She was determined to drive him crazy all day, and that was the sole reason behind her having selected the far too revealing black cocktail dress for the wedding of the soon to be devoured Mr. Daniel Riley.

Whilst her outfit was arguably not conducive to hunting, the carefully concealed handgun she had slipped into her garter seemed the perfect accessory. Although given the nature of their perpetrator, Jo wondered if a can of bug spray would perhaps be a more suitable choice of weapon.  
>"You guys good to go?" Jo called out. She breezed out from the bathroom and snatched up a black clutch bag from the dresser, which was also crammed to the hilt with knives and other hunting paraphernalia. Dean turned his head in Jo's direction and his mouth fell open as he stared.<p>

"Wow. I... That's... It's...," he stammered, too caught up in his own inappropriate thoughts to notice the blush that rose up Jo's cheeks. Jo smiled in satisfaction, walking over toward Dean with an exaggerated sway to her hips as she reached out to fix his bow tie.  
>His hands suddenly enclosed around hers and a smile of clear adoration settled on his features.<p>

"You look beautiful," he simply stated, effectively voicing the sentiment this time.  
>Jo slid her hands down the lapels of his suit jacket, "You clean up pretty good yourself."<br>Dean pressed a quick kiss to her lips and nodded, glancing at himself in the mirror as he adjusted the edges of his cuffs and arched an eyebrow for comic effect, "Winchester, Dean Winchester..."  
>Jo laughed, turned on her heel, walked over to the dresser, and slipped her room key into her purse. Dean's head instantly whipped around in her direction and he winced in an almost pained manner as he eagerly surveyed the back of her dress.<p>

"Good God, woman," he drawled, finding himself strangely and uncharacteristically lost for words. The dress dipped low at the back, falling in a soft lip of fabric which revealed the smooth and tanned skin of Jo's back. Dean could almost feel his mouth watering, and he dabbed at his lips hurriedly with his sleeve as a matter of caution.

"Mind on the job guys," Sam insisted, his tone wary as he brushed the collar of his shirt straight.

"We'll be totally professional Sam, I swear," Jo vowed, side stepping as Dean reached out to pull her into him. Jo turned a frown upon her boyfriend and waggled her finger at him in mock warning.

"Let's just get this over with," said Dean, sighing as they made their way out of their motel room and towards the parking lot. "I hope the food is at least good."

The soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Riley were marrying in the largest church in town, surrounded by more guests than Dean thought it was actually possible to have met in a lifetime. He guessed that everyone from the pool cleaning guy to their most distant cousins had been invited, and was fairly glad to discover that they were able to blend into the immense crowd without much effort.

The ceremony was brief and, whilst Jo and Dean snarked their way through it, Sam sat with a kind of quiet reverence that made Dean think that his kid brother had perhaps not given up on relationships as completely as he claimed. For Sammy's sake, Dean certainly hoped as much was true.

Dean's heart ached for his brother; the haunted expression in his eyes as he had watched the couple stumble through their vows meant that he could only have been thinking of Jess.

Whilst Dean hoped that one day Sam would finally let go of the woman he had spent the last six years mourning, he knew that Jess still occupied his brother's heart. Events such as this only served to reopen old wounds as Sam's thoughts turned to his own engagement, and the wedding that was never destined to be.

The ceremony passed in a decidedly dull drone of bible readings and hymns, none of which Dean could recognise. When the congregation filed out of the church for photographs, the hunters did their best to ensure that they appeared on none, whilst also attempting to extract the reception venue from the other guests. Eventually, Sam managed to use his charms to prize a map from the hands of an elderly aunt, who made him first promise a dance to her later that night.

Lurking behind a large display of orange artificial flowers, Jo nursed her champagne glass and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. Although having no idea what the renowned wedding planner actually looked like, Jo was certain she would be presiding over events and should therefore be fairly easy to spot amongst the increasingly inebriated revelers.

Her brown eyes flicked to Dean, who was chatting boredly to a man intent on selling him insurance. Dean caught Jo's gaze and he winked, finding himself rewarded with a small smile before Jo panned the crowd for Sam. The younger Winchester was sandwiched at a table between two teenaged bridesmaids, who both appeared taken by the tall, handsome guest.

Ending his conversation, but not without first accepting a business card that was thrust under his nose, Dean made his way back across the room towards Jo. He took the glass she offered him almost gratefully and, despite his disdain for champagne, Dean gulped it down. His discomfort at having to mingle with the other guests was palpable and, although Jo pitied him a little, watching Dean squirm was just too good of an opportunity to miss.

"You see our suspect?" Dean asked as he leaned into his girlfriend and bestowed a kiss upon her forehead.

"I have no idea," she revealed, somewhat defeated already, "this party has a couple of hours left tops, and we still don't have a clue who the bug lady is. What are we going to do Dean?"

"We could always try and warn the groom?" he suggested, backtracking at an incredulous glare from Jo. "Okay, not my best idea. But it beats letting him get his head ripped off. It's the guy's wedding night, he should be..."

"I beg you not to finish that sentence," Jo pleaded, holding one finger up at Dean to demand silence.

Lewd grin in place, Dean extended his hand behind Jo, ghosting his fingertips down the small of her back. A breathy moan of surprise escaped her lips and she shot him a warning glare that was only half-heartedly malicious.  
>"Don't start what you can't finish, Winchester," she chided, noting with a shred of satisfaction how Dean's eyes devoured her.<br>Leaning in to capture her ear, Dean lowered his voice to a whisper and moved his hand to settle on Jo's satin swathed hip, "Later on tonight... you and that little dress are in trouble."  
>"Me and my little dress were counting on it," she retorted.<p>

She reached out to pat Dean's cheek, "Now, a little focus, please Dean-o?"  
>"Please, I'm always focused," he scoffed, heaving a dramatic sigh as he returned his attention to the partygoers, "alright, there's the groom, I'll babysit him, you and Sammy see if you can find the big, ugly, hungry spider."<p>

"Quit it, Dean!" Jo snarled, elbowing Dean in the chest as he attacked her waist with both hands, his fingers wiggling manically. Having amused himself thoroughly, Dean sauntered off and disappeared amongst the throng of people spread out across the dance floor.

Jo turned a full circle where she stood, attempting to keep her actions as seemingly innocent as possible by scooping up a handful of nuts from the buffet table that stood behind her. Opening her mouth and tipping her head back, Jo proceeded to catch the nuts on her tongue.

"Great party, isn't it?" a voice enthused. Jo jumped suddenly and coughed as a whole nut slipped down her throat. Her eyes watered profusely but Jo blinked back the moisture and affixed the man with a shaky smile.

"The best," she squeaked, her voice sounding a little odd. She cleared her throat before taking another sip of her drink.

"Don't you just adore weddings?" the man gushed in a breathy rush that seemed so amusing when accompanied by his deep bass tone. Jo cast an inquisitive eye over her new companion, who she noted wore a sharp grey suit complete with a crushed velvet, baby pink cravat and a pair of expensive looking leather lace up shoes.

"Definitely," Jo replied after a pause, not wanting to seem unfriendly.

"It's my thirty-seventh wedding this year, and I'm still misty eyed," he pressed his hand to his chest and laughed as he sniffled for effect.  
>"Thirty-seventh? Wow," Jo blinked, "you must really like weddings."<br>The man laughed lightly and shook his head, "Oh no sweetie, you could say weddings are my business. My calling, if you will."  
>"Calling?" Jo shook her head, bemused by the almost reverent tone to the man's voice as his gaze swept around the large function room.<br>"Honey, my Barbie dolls had the finest weddings in the tri-state area," he assured her, producing a business card which he thrust toward her with an undeniable twinkle in his eyes.  
>"You're Kelly Phillips?" Jo smiled in disbelief, taking the silver embossed card and glancing up with wide eyes at the extravagantly dressed man beside her.<p>

"In the flesh. I see you've heard of me. May I ask if you'll be requiring my services in the not too distant future?" he fished, "because I've just secured a deal with the most exquisite little boutique bakery, and their red velvet cake is to die for! They're having a special on wedding favours, so you might wanna think about what kind of..."  
>"Oh no," Jo shook her head, the glaring flaw in their logic now staring her in the face, "no, a friend of mine is getting married and she's mentioned you a couple of times."<br>"Well, you tell her to haul tush to my office because Lord knows we're booking up _fast_!" he emphasized the final word and tapped the business card Jo was still holding.

Feeling a migraine rapidly coming on, Jo pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger as Kelly launched into another similarly self-serving tangent.  
>"I will say, that this little shindig would have looked that touch more chic, had it not been for these damn fake flowers." He sighed in annoyance and fingered the floral display by his side. "But we had to nix the tiger lily displays we were going to go with on account of the groom's allergies. Personally I think he could have taken a Benadryl and sucked it up."<p>

"Sure, yeah" Jo nodded absently, watching as Sam approached from the bar, having apparently escaped his captors.  
>"Hey, Sam!" Jo called, her tone conveying her urgency.<br>"Well then, now who do we have here?" Kelly asked charmingly, shooting Sam an almost predatory gaze that the younger man met with a shaky smile.  
>"Oh, this is my friend Sam," Jo introduced the pair, shooting Sam a pointed look as she announced, "Sam, this is Kelly Phillips... the wedding planner."<br>"I prefer 'wedding coordinator'," Kelly corrected, staring in confusion at the significant glances that passed between the pair.

"You're Kelly?" Sam checked, his face falling at the new piece of information. He directed his gaze across the room at Dean, who was preoccupied with maintaining a watch on the groom.

"I'm fairly certain," the man replied tartly. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no, not at all," Sam answered in a rush, signaling for Jo to intercept Dean as he rose from his seat and began to follow the groom out into the hallway. Daniel Riley left the party with a petite blonde on his arm. As Sam saw Dean reach into his breast pocket where his gun was concealed, Sam's heart thundered to a halt. Jo quickened her pace as she also caught Dean's discreet gesture, and she all but ran from the party.

"We just thought you were a... a... uh," Sam faltered, unsure of how to proceed without causing offence. "Never mind."

Without another word, Sam turned on his heel, picked up a canapé from the table, stuffed it into his mouth, and then wandered off into the crowd. Kelly Phillips was left alone and more than a little confused.

With a sigh, he mused aloud, "Why are the cute ones always weird?"

**x-x-x**

Dean had been watching the slim blonde practically hang off the groom for the last twenty minutes, his suspicions mounting with every passing second. From the looks the two exchanged and the way their bodies occasionally touched, it was clear to Dean that they were not family. Coupled with the fact that the woman had spent half of the party either alone or talking into her cell phone, Dean figured it was a pretty safe assumption that she was their murderous wedding planner. The bride seemed to be indisposed elsewhere and, although Daniel Riley received the odd disapproving glare from members of the wedding party, not one made a move to disentangle him from his new companion.

Following the couple out of the party, Dean maintained a safe distance. They advanced down the hallway, their hands brushing and their voices dropping to hushed murmurs. Dean arched an eyebrow as he watched and then cursed under his breath as his phone vibrated urgently against his leg. He paused only to seize the cell before it betrayed his position. After quickly jabbing the power button, Dean dropped the phone back into his jacket pocket and peered down the hall. He was surprised to find that the groom and the woman had disappeared from view in the short time that he had taken his eyes off them.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled under his breath. He stared at the closet door in front of him as a strange, muffled cry emanated from it. Dean's hand stretched out toward the door knob as a series of unearthly groans filled his ears. Wasting no time, he flung open the closet door and whipped his handgun from his inside pocket.

He was not expecting the terrified screams that greeted him as the barrel of his handgun came to rest upon Daniel Riley and the mystery woman, both in varying states of undress and locked in a compromising clinch.

"What the hell?" the groom yelled, his eyes wide in horror as he stared at Dean, who still brandished his weapon. The hunter faltered, shocked to the core by the sheer gall of the cheating groom. The blonde woman panted fearfully and clutched Daniel's abandoned jacket to her chest in order to preserve her modesty. Dean's upper lip curled in disgust.

"You should be ashamed," he chided, shaking his head at the groom, who seemed far more concerned with the firearm that Dean possessed rather than the moral implications of his actions.

"Are you a private eye?" Daniel demanded, voice quivering, "did Halley's Dad hire you? Cos whatever he's paying, I'll double."

Dean licked his lips, glancing between the couple as he tried to formulate a suitable cover story. When he found his imagination eclipsed by his shock, Dean merely shook his head irritably, "You... get back to your wife... and you... well, you... cover yourself up."

He turned away in an unlikely act of chivalry as the woman scrambled to pull her dress back up to cover her chest.  
>"Out!" Dean ordered, gesturing to the hall with his gun. "Move your sorry asses."<br>"Dean?" Jo shouted, jogging down the hallway toward him as quickly as her four inch heels would allow.

"What the...?" she began, frowning as she came to a halt at his side and glanced in evident disbelief at the guilty couple.  
>Her eyebrow arched in disdain, and she pointed a finger at the groom, "Shame on you!"<br>"Please, please don't tell my wife," he stammered, swallowing hard as his partner in crime fled the scene, shoes in hand. Jo doubted that she would be returning to the party any time soon.  
>"Dude, seriously... on your wedding day?" Dean challenged. He regarded the man closely, suddenly wondering if he had in fact been worth the trouble of saving to begin with. Offering Jo his arm, Dean shot Daniel Riley one final disapproving glare, and then strode down the hallway back to the reception.<p>

**x-x-x**

"I need a drink," Dean mumbled, leaning heavily across the bar and raising an index finger to attract the attention of the barman. Jo nodded her agreement, groaning as she kicked off her heels and hopped onto a barstool at her boyfriend's side. Both of the hunters glanced up as Sam approached, his darkened expression clearly belaying his own feelings on the case that they appeared no closer to cracking.

"Make that three," Sam said, beginning to tug at the knot of his tie. His fingers worked at the top buttons and before long Sam was wearing his shirt open on the neck.

"Things must be bad if Sammy's driven to drink," muttered Dean, toying with a cardboard coaster that sat on the bar top. Dean paused to relay their order to the barman who set about retrieving glasses without so much as a nod in his customer's direction.

"Well I just had a talk with the new Mrs. Riley," Sam revealed, the corners of his mouth turned downwards as he regarded Dean and Jo in turn.

"Passing on your congratulations?" Jo inquired, smiling eagerly at the barman as he placed three tumblers on the bar and began to fill each with whiskey.

"She was telling me all about Kelly Phillips actually," Sam said, taking a sip from his glass and grimacing as the liquid burned his throat. "Apparently, he likes to use the same companies for most of his clients. Bakery, caterer, florist, tailor, printer, hairdresser... he thinks they're his winning formula or something."

"You're kidding, right?" Jo groaned, her expression distraught.

"Wish I was," he sighed, dropping down onto the stool at Jo's side and downing the remainder of his drink in one. Jo did likewise before slamming her glass back onto the bar and jerking her finger in the direction of the barman. Returning to top up the glasses, the man paused for a moment, before simply setting the bottle down in front of the three miserable hunters.

Dean pressed his palm to his forehead, feebly rubbing away the beginnings of the headache that had started almost the moment he had opened the closet door.  
>"That's what... at least thirty... forty people, who all had access to both the weddings, maybe more," Sam calculated, leaning his elbows on the bar and nursing his glass.<br>Jo watched as Dean tugged at his bow tie before tossing the offending item down onto the bar. He swallowed the contents of his glass in one gulp.  
>"Well that's just great," Dean placed the glass down with a defeated sigh, unwilling to admit that this would be a case that would remain unsolved.<p>

Jo raised her drink to her lips in a similarly dejected manner as she watched two of the bridesmaids chattering over the bridal bouquet. The rim of the glass had barely grazed her lips when her eyes widened in sudden inspiration, "Flowers!"  
>"Come again?" Dean peered back in confusion.<br>"Come on," Jo ordered, grabbing her purse and hopping down from the bar stool as Dean tossed a wad of money onto the bar and followed behind, still none the wiser.  
>"Uhm, Cinderella?" He picked up her shoes from the floor and waved them at her pointedly, "You wanna share with the rest of the class?"<br>Jo took her shoes and slipped her feet back into them, resting her hand on Dean's shoulder to aid her balance as she did so.  
>"There were no flowers at this wedding, the groom's allergic..." Jo stated, waiting for realisation to finally dawn on both of the brother's faces.<br>"The florist," Sam reasoned aloud, .  
>"Ain't she somethin'?" Dean smirked, arching an eyebrow at his sibling as they followed behind Jo and made their way out of the hotel.<p>

**x-x-x**

The exterior of '_Hanayo_' was un-extraordinary to say the least. The small, grey-brick building was squirreled away from the main street in an alley, sandwiched between an adult book store and a greasy spoon cafe. However, the display that dominated the large front window of the floristry store was exquisite; a number of exotic orchids and blooms were interwoven carefully into bouquets that could not fail to draw the eye.

After extracting the name of Kelly Phillips' usual florist from the wedding planner's inebriated assistant, the hunters had stopped by their motel to change and gather more weapons before making their way across town. The trunk of the Impala was loaded up with a veritable arsenal since not even Bobby had been able to shed any light on the possibility of what creature may be responsible for the killings.

Sam stared up at the store front warily, his shotgun cradled to his chest, and waited for Dean and Jo to join him on the sidewalk. He was decidedly nervous about this particular hunt; the boys' father had always been careful to learn the measure of his foe before attempting to face it, and this was a rule that Sam preferred to live by.

"You bring a can of 'Raid', Sammy?" Dean quipped, his expression stoic as he scanned the windows for any apparent movement.  
>Jo held her shotgun close to her chest, her breathing becoming ever more erratic as her heart rate increased to an unrelenting pounding in her ears.<br>"You don't have to go in there, Jo," Dean stated, smiling kindly to lessen the blow as he offered her the final 'out' to their impending bug hunt.  
>Jo took a deep, steadying breath and shook her head, "You guys go, I go."<br>"Alright then," Dean nodded, glancing up at Sam as they began their approach to the back door of the store. Making quick work of the lock and, relieved to find no security system in operation, the trio stepped through the doorway, their eyes simultaneously trained on every surface and space both high and low.

"I think someone forgot to turn the aircon on," Dean stated, feeling beads of perspiration prickling at his forehead as they ventured further into the humid building. Sam let out a yelp, spluttering as he batted a wayward fern branch from his face.

"Sorry," he hissed, wincing as both Dean and Jo glared at him tetchily.

"Next time, be sure it's an eight legged freak before you pee your pants," Dean growled, moving to the lead of the party as they crept through the darkened store. Nothing immediately appeared to be amiss, but the hunters proceeded with extra caution. Jo suddenly shuddered despite the heat and, spying the gesture in his peripheral vision, Dean offered her a smile that he hoped was reassuring.

Inclining his head towards a door located at the back of the store and marked 'staff only', Dean inched forwards with the barrel of his shotgun leading. Sam and Jo both followed suit, the latter sandwiching herself between the brothers wearing an uncharacteristically nervous expression.

Dean reached out and wrenched the doorknob, flinging the door back on its hinges to reveal a flight of stairs leading down into what he presumed to be the basement.

"Oh man, this isn't going to end well," Jo muttered. She seemed to have lost the ability to blink somewhere between the store entrance and the basement steps, her eyes impossibly wide and her pupils fully dilated. Had Dean not been so alarmed himself, he may have been amused.

Sam turned his head sharply, glancing behind him to make sure there was no imminent ambush from the rear.  
>"What?" Jo breathed, following Sam's line of sight.<br>"Nothing," Sam whispered, shaking his head and advancing down the slightly rickety staircase. Dean rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the rampant beating of his own heart as he reached the final step and swung his flash light in an arc across the room.  
>"Oh... crap." Dean's eyes widened in dismay as the beam of light drifted across numerous white nets of small, black pulsating bodies. "That's just nasty."<p>

"Dean, please tell me they're not what I think they are," Jo stammered, swallowing back the lump that had risen in her throat. She quickly reasoned that the one thing worse than coming face to face with a giant spider was the prospect of hundreds of gestating baby arachnids.  
>"Question is, where's Momma?" Sam added gravely, watching as Jo swept her flashlight over the ceiling and walls of the basement.<p>

"Are you really wanting to stick around to find out?" Jo spat, her tone incredulous as she shone the beam of her flashlight directly in Sam's face. Hiding a grin, Sam shook his head and stepped off the bottom step, forcing Jo into the basement. She shot him a glare but shuffled closer towards Dean, who had drawn a machete from his belt in preparation.

"So do we just hack at..." he began uncertainly, jumping visibly as Sam cut him off.

"God no," Sam interjected, his features twisted in horror at the very idea. "Spiders are kind of... hardy. You'd probably just turn them all loose."

"Then we burn the place down," said Jo, eyes still nervously scanning the room for any sign of movement. Although she was less than keen to come up against the mother spider, it's lack of presence in the nest alarmed her.

"We got gasoline in the trunk Sammy?" Dean inquired, turning to his younger brother, who nodded wordlessly before disappearing back up the basement steps. Jo heard the bell to the entrance jingle, signifying Sam's exit, and an involuntary shudder ran through her body. Suddenly, Jo's gaze was drawn to the far right, where there appeared to be a worrying amount of movement from one of the webs. Jo squinted, her mouth becoming dry as she watched thin, black legs emerge from within the cottony type mass.

"Dean..." she whispered, her voice cracking as she slapped her hand onto Dean's arm and motioned towards the hatching spiders; the largest of which was easily the size of a kitten.

Dean reached into his pocket for his lighter and motioned for Jo to step back toward the staircase as they watched the hatchlings tear through the webs that bound them.  
>"Dean," Jo all but trembled, her hand grasping his arm as she prepared to kiss goodbye to any shred of self respect she had left, "if those things wriggle their fugly asses out of there, there's a pretty big chance I'm gonna scream like a little girl."<br>Dean tore his gaze from the nest and glanced at her momentarily. His eyes were quickly drawn once again to the legs now poking out threateningly from their silken cocoons, "Yeah? You and me both, sweetheart."

Dean released the breath he had been holding as Sam scrambled down the steps, gasoline can in hand, and began liberally dousing the ground. The smell was pungent and it assaulted Jo's nostrils but she did not bother to raise her hand to her face.  
>"Whilst we're flambéing the kiddies, you guard the door," Dean directed, watching as Jo nodded and flicked the safety catch off her gun, "if Momma comes back..."<br>"Don't need to tell me twice," Jo retorted, wincing as she watched the baby spiders struggle against the confines of the silk webbing. She averted her eyes from the grizzly scene, shotgun trained on the open doorway and the darkened hallway beyond.

The flames took hold quickly as Dean dropped his lighter onto a puddle of gas that had collected on the ground. Sam and Dean backed off towards the stairs, which Jo had already fled up two at a time. The rest of the spiders began to tear their way through their egg sacks, hissing and squealing as the inferno licked at their bodies. Jo whimpered, and the three hunters wasted no time in barrelling through the door of the store and tumbling out into the alleyway.

"Let's go," Dean instructed, his eyes on the store front, which would soon be reduced to nothing more than a charred shell. He wondered briefly if the fire would spread to the neighbouring stores but, as long as the nest of creatures was destroyed, arson was something he could live with.

"We'll come back tomorrow, look around, make sure the nest is gone," said Sam as they jogged away from the building and towards the Impala, which had been parked around the back on the main street. Whilst Dean nodded, Jo shivered and Sam noted the faint greenish hue of her skin in the light cast from the streetlamps.

With a groan, Jo scratched at both of her arms simultaneously; "I so need a shower!"

Although it was ludicrous, she was certain that she could feel hundreds of tiny legs scampering over her body.  
>"We need to figure out where the mom is," Dean said gravely, sliding into the driver's seat as Sam took his turn in the back and left Jo sitting up front, her shotgun wedged between her knees as she shook traces of cobweb from her hair.<br>"You okay?" Dean regarded her closely as he jammed the keys into the ignition, his gaze briefly flitting to the night sky, where a steady cloud of smoke spewed out from the store.  
>"Fine," she cast her eyes downward in a self-conscious gesture. "You think she skipped town?"<br>"And leave the nursery unattended?" Dean shook his head, "not likely."

"Let's head back to the motel and regroup," Dean suggested after a pause. He shot a look at Sam who was clipping his belt into place as the Impala's engine rumbled to life. Dean sped away from the curb, driving like a truly guilty man. He cast sporadic glances in his rearview mirror, and Sam realised that he was searching for cops, probably concerned that the they had been seen exiting the store.

"We need a new plan," Jo reasoned, "we can't bail town until we know we got the big one, and I highly doubt she's going to hang around much longer with her nest torched."

"You're probably right," said Sam, nodding in agreement, "I'm gonna give Bobby a call and see if his research has turned up a way to track this thing. I want to look over Kelly's office too; maybe I can dig up some dirt on this florist. The assistant was kind of sketchy on the details, something about confidentiality clauses."

"Jo and I will head over to the rooms. I'll go pick us up some food, and then we can decide what to do from there," Dean suggested as Sam pulled his cell phone from his pocket and began punching in Bobby's number from memory. Jo shot him an incredulous glance.

"You are seriously going to eat after what we just saw in there?" she inquired, her nose wrinkling at the very idea. Her own stomach roiled as though she were standing on a boat and experiencing the worst seasickness of her life. Jo was striving to ignore the sensation, mentally talking herself down from the ledge she was clinging to. She _really _hated spiders.

"A man's gotta eat," countered Dean with a defensive sniff, "besides, a good hunt always makes me hungry."

Jo rolled her eyes and sagged back against her seat as she muttered, "Dean Winchester, breathing makes you hungry."

**x-x-x**

Jamming a handful of potato chips into his mouth, Dean kicked the motel door shut behind him and sauntered across the room, bags of groceries in his arms. Depositing the food onto the table top, Dean flung his car keys beside them and shrugged off his jacket, throwing himself down wearily onto the bed. He laced his hands behind his head, and inclined his neck toward the bathroom door, hoping that the absence of running water meant that Jo was done with her shower and would be joining him for dinner imminently. His stomach rumbled in protest and he glanced around the room in search of a distraction from his hunger.

A small smile settled on his lips as he spied the 'magic fingers' box attached to the bed and he leant across the mattress to the nightstand to search through a pile of change.

"Wouldn't you rather have these magic fingers?"

Dean turned in the direction of the bathroom and his jaw instantly dropped. Jo smiled alluringly, arching an eyebrow as she awaited a response.

"I uh... I..." Dean spluttered, blushing as he felt a certain stirring about the spot that Jo's eyes appeared to be fixed upon.

"What's the matter, honey?" Jo drawled, slipping into the bedroom and closing the bathroom door behind her. Dean swallowed, drinking in the sight of Jo's black lace camisole and matching panties, which left little to the imagination.

"Shouldn't we be... uh..." Dean trailed off as Jo clambered onto the bottom of the bed on her hands and knees, before crawling slowly up his body. She paused only to scatter kisses on the inside of his leg, and Dean groaned as he felt his resolve slipping.

"Uh-uh," Jo breathed, straddling Dean's body and forcing him back against the pillows with both palms pressed against his chest. "There's nowhere else we need to be right now."

"Ah, screw the giant spider," Dean agreed as the slow grind of Jo's hips against his sealed his decision.  
>Jo giggled, smiling her approval as Dean's hands wandered up her sides and he pulled her down to claim her lips in an impassioned kiss.<br>"Nope," Jo chided, pressing her finger to Dean's lips. She then proceeded to trail her fingertip down his throat before pressing kisses against his warm skin. Jo bit down lightly against Dean's racing pulse and he shuddered beneath her body, dangerously close to losing control.

"Jo," he pleaded softly, slipping his hand around the back of her neck and attempting once again to kiss her. Dean frowned as she dodged his advances and rotated her hips against his crotch as a distraction. Dean's eyelids fluttered closed as an involuntary groan escaped his lips; he sucked in a breath, struggling to gather his thoughts.  
>"Jo, is something wrong?" Dean peered up at Jo intently, brushing tendrils of hair from her face as she met his gaze.<br>"No," she replied with a shrug before making quick work of the buttons of his flannel shirt and then pushing the garment back from his shoulders. Dean wanted nothing more than to yield to her advances but there was something so uncharacteristically predatory in her eyes that Dean found himself concerned.  
>"Hey, sweetheart, let's just slow down," he suggested, seizing her questing hands in his and brushing his thumbs against her skin. Jo sighed and a strangely irritable expression crossed her face.<br>"Just relax," she purred, sweeping her hands across his chest and then sliding her palms under his t-shirt.  
>Dean reached up and cupped Jo's cheek as he leant up off the mattress, leaning ever closer as his eyes settled on her enticing lips. Wearing pants was quickly becoming uncomfortable and yet something held Dean back; whilst he struggled to put his finger on the route of his unrest, Jo pounced on his lips with a growl and thrust her tongue deep into his mouth.<p>

**x-x-x**

Sam slammed the door of the cab before throwing a wad off cash through the open driver's window, pointedly ignoring the glare that the man bestowed upon him. Whilst Sam knew that the gesture was rude and one that he would usually shy away from, the events of the evening rendered him uncaring. With his cell phone still held up to his ear, Sam proceeded to jog across the parking lot.

"Are you certain Bobby?" Sam pressed, his tone urgent and his breathing ragged as he attempted to simultaneously conduct a conversation and run.

"Positive kid," came Bobby's muffled response from the other end of the phone. "From what you've said it all adds up; the murders, the nest, and even the orchids."

"So we got a..." Sam began, faltering to recall the alien word that Bobby had revealed to him mere seconds ago.

"A Jorogumo," Bobby supplied, "real common in Japan a good two thousand or so years ago. Roughly translates to 'whore spider'."

"Nice," Sam said with a grimace as he drew to a halt in front of the Impala. He slid the spare key into the lock on the trunk and popped it. Within seconds he had pulled aside the false bottom and began riffling through the various weapons.

"Yep, she's been using these poor schmucks to mate with," Bobby said gruffly, and Sam could almost hear the revulsion in his voice. "Then when they've... played their part... she bites off their head and moves onto the next."

Sam grimaced at the memory of the headless corpses and he scanned the parking lot for passers-by before holding aloft a shotgun which he stuffed with silver bullets. Though he was dubious as to the effectiveness of such weaponry against a giant arachnid, it could not hurt to throw all they had at the creature, both figuratively and literally.  
>"Hey, Bobby... how does she get the guys to... ya know..." Sam cleared his throat, waiting a few seconds before Bobby caught on.<br>"They can make themselves look like whoever they want... historically they used the guise of a beautiful woman to reel the guys in, but it looks like this one is making things a little more personal," Bobby relayed, the unmistakable sound of a beer can opening bringing a brief smile to Sam's face  
>"So the dead guys thought it was their wife," Sam nodded in understanding, closing the trunk of the Impala with a thud. He was happy to finally have acquired some information about their suspect that was not merely conjecture.<p>

"Yup." Bobby took a sip of his beer and then belched immediately afterwards. "Nasty things, once they get the scent of their prey or sniff out an enemy, you can kiss your ass goodbye."  
>"Wait," Sam paused at the top of the stairs, his hand gripping the rail, "so when we burned out her nest..."<br>Bobby did not reply but Sam heard the unmistakable sound of a smoke alarm in the background followed by a string of guttural profanities.

"Great," Sam huffed, "I guess I don't need to ask you how we find her."  
>"If this thing's got your scent, she'll be finding you real soon, especially since you boys went and barbecued her young'uns."<br>Sam raised his hand to knock on Dean and Jo's door, having learned from experience that awaiting an invitation would save them all unnecessary blushes. He paused before his fist could make contact with the door, sighing and rolling his eyes in exasperation at the tell-tale moans and groans emanating from the room.

"Thanks Bobby, I'll check in with you again once the job's finished," Sam promised, awaiting Bobby's grunted goodbye before hanging up the call. Sam rapped sharply on the motel door, his ears straining to detect an answer that never came. Deciding to give up for the moment, Sam turned on his heel and was just about to make his way back to his own room, when something caught his eye suspended from the open bathroom window; a thick, white tendril of a familiar looking substance fluttered in the breeze.

**x-x-x**

"Jo, where's the fire?" Dean protested, yelping as Jo nipped at his bottom lip. She sat back on her heels and shot Dean an impish grin. He raised his fingertip to his lip and withdrew it stained with splotches of blood. Dean's eyes widened at Jo's sudden ferocity.

"What's the matter honey?" she murmured, fingering the top of her panties teasingly, her eyes locked on Dean's expression. Confusion, lust and uncertainty flickered across his features in quick succession.

"Are you sure everything is..." Dean began in concern, blinking in surprise as Jo's hand suddenly shot out and her fingers gripped his jaw like a vice.

"Everything is just fine," Jo hissed, the tip of her nose now pressed to Dean's.

Her lips clashed roughly against his once again and Dean's mind began reeling as he suddenly considered a terrible possibility. There was no affection or tenderness in her touch, and her eyes conveyed none of the emotion or even playfulness that they usually possessed on such occasions.

Whilst Dean had bedded his fair share of women -several guy's share, if he were being honest - it had somehow always been different with Jo. He assumed that was because he had never truly loved any of the women he had slept with before and, though he would never admit this out loud to anybody, he had learned to appreciate a whole other level of intimacy with her that went beyond just sex. Dean drew back to look deep into her eyes and a sickening dread overcame him.

Yet Jo continued her seduction, apparently oblivious to his concerns as she tossed the satin camisole over her head and shook back her mane of blonde waves, staring ravenously at the man beneath her.  
>Dean seized her hand before she could undo his belt buckle and he caught both her wrists in his grasp, flipping her over until he now held her pinned to the mattress.<br>"Where's Jo?" he demanded, pressing her wrists hard against the bed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jo said breathlessly, something unrecognisable flashing across her eyes and spoiling the visage.

"What the hell have you done with my girlfriend?" Dean snarled, anger bubbling up inside the pit of his stomach. "If you've hurt her, so help me God..."

"Oh, God can't help you now honey," Jo crooned. Seemingly effortlessly, she flung Dean from the bed and across the motel room, where his body connected with the wall and sent him tumbling to the floor in a heap of limbs. The air left Dean's lungs in a whoosh and for a few seconds he struggled to breathe. Jo, or the thing wearing her form, rose from the bed and took a step towards the fallen hunter.

"You're a clever one I must say," it hissed in an unpleasant, sing-song voice that sent a chill through Dean's body. Fear for Jo's well being prickled at him but Dean knew that for the moment he had to focus on his own survival; after all, he would be little use to Jo if he wound up as spider chow.

"The first in over seven hundred years to notice that the woman you were lying with was not yours," it said, an amused smile contorting it's lips. "How very touching. I perhaps may have let you go _hunter_, had you not murdered my young."

Dean's head whipped around to the doorway as a loud splintering sound tore through the air and the door flew back on its hinges to strike the wall. Sam was revealed on the threshold, his figure bathed in pale moonlight as he cocked a loaded shotgun.  
>"Shoot her!" Dean hollered, widening his eyes emphatically at his brother who faltered as he gazed upon what was essentially Jo's face.<br>"You sure about that?" Sam gulped, his finger hovering over the trigger as the creature sidled over to him. A broad smile appeared on her face as she sensed his reluctance. Visibly trembling with nerves, Sam shouted, "Dean?"  
>"It's not Jo," Dean yelled in response, scrambling to his feet, "shoot her!"<p>

Sam fired a round square into the creature's chest and almost immediately a furious, high pitched shriek filled the air. Their eyes widened in mutual horror as the brothers found themselves helpless to do much else aside from watch whilst the creature shed all traces of human form. The remaining lingerie dropped to the floor along with what appeared to be a blanket of skin. Dean resisted the strong urge to gag and attempted to cross the room in order to evade the spider. Sam fired off a second shot, cursing as the bullet bounced off the shiny black shell that encased the Jorogumo's body. She reared up in anger, her front two legs raised at ninety degree angles to the floor along with a pair of wicked looking fangs that gleamed with what Dean assumed to be venom.

"What the hell is this thing?" Dean gasped, throwing himself down onto his shoulder and rolling away across the floor as the enormous spider-like monster jabbed at him with one leg. Dean wasted no time in leaping to his feet, positioning himself at Sam's side whilst scouring the room with his eyes for some easily attainable weapon. The best he could locate under the circumstances was Jo's knife, which she had placed on the nightstand before disappearing into the bathroom. Swallowing hard, Dean wondered what sights would greet him in the room once he and Sam finally managed to dispatch the Jorogumo; the very thought sent Dean's heart rate through the roof, and brought a sudden metallic taste to his mouth.

"Bobby says it's a Jorogumo," shouted Sam above the enraged snarling of the spider. It danced towards the hunter and he did not hesitate to hit out at it with his shotgun.

"How do we kill it?" Dean demanded, his eyes widening in surprise as the monster appeared to tip back it's head and cackle.

"You gotta..." Sam grunted, using the barrel of the gun to deflect a strike from one of the creature's legs, "aim for the heart."

Dean nodded, dodging another lunging attack as he dived across the bed and seized the knife. He unsheathed it within less than a second and used it to swiftly hack at an incoming leg.

The spider yowled as thick, black blood pooled on the motel room carpet and with another forceful strike in Dean's direction, the nightstand beside the bed splintered in two.

"Where the hell IS the heart?" Dean shouted, scanning the creature's oversized body as Sam rammed the barrel of the shotgun between two of its eight eyes. The Jorogumo was impossibly fast and it's undeniable advantage lay within the fact that it possessed twice as many appendages to fight with than Sam and Dean put together.

"Aim for it's back!" Sam instructed, fending off the spider's snapping jaws with a nearby chair that was bitten through by sizeable fangs. Tossing the remnants of the chair aside, Sam hefted the remaining leg in his hand and stabbed the slightly pointed end through one of the creature's eyes, "Anytime, Dean!"

He yelled out as the spider whirled around, somewhat blinded and addled by the pain Sam's attack had rendered.

"It's always gotta be me," Dean grumbled, glaring at Sam before leaping up onto the bed and using it as a springboard from which to launch himself onto the spider's back. Landing atop the monster, Dean grunted and flung both arms around the thing's midsection as it bucked like a wild bronco in an attempt to throw him off. Several legs reached around back, scrabbling furiously at Dean, but falling just out of reach as they refused to bend in the required manner. The arachnid continued to gyrate and, finally seeming to realise that Dean did not intend to be discarded so easily, it took off in a run towards the wall. Dean's eyes widened as the creature's intentions dawned upon him, and all he could do was cling onto both the Jorogumo and the one weapon he possessed.

At any other, less life-threatening time, Sam may have found the image of his brother suspended upside down from the ceiling somewhat amusing; however, in the heat of the battle, it was a thoroughly disturbing sight. Sam struggled to take aim at the spider but as it worked to remove it's rider, he found that a clear shot had become impossible. All he could do was watch as his brother held Jo's knife aloft and then plunged it with all his strength into the outer casing of the monster's lower body segment. The Jorogumo released an unearthly cry that sounded almost akin to an agonised cat, and an oily ebony liquid spurted into Dean's face. Horrified, the hunter released his grip on his kill, leaving the knife embedded in it's body still quivering from the force of the blow.

Dean dropped unceremoniously to the carpeted floor and landed with a thump that Sam was certain the occupants of the neighbouring room would have heard. And it was with his eyes half closed as he stared up at the monster that Dean realised too late what would become of it's carcass. The Jorogumo landed on top of Dean Winchester and all eight of it's hairy, lithe legs curled inwards towards the centre of it's body.

"Dean?" Sam approached the body cautiously, tapping at one of it's legs with his shotgun as he sought out his brother.  
>"A little help here, Sammy?" Dean cried. He pushed against the creature's lifeless body as Sam dropped the gun and began to roll the arachnid aside. Dean slid free, relieved to be out from under the immense weight of the monster. Dean's chest rose and fell rapidly, and he hissed at the burning pain that hampered his breathing, certain that he had cracked a rib or two.<br>"Jo," Dean said with a wince, gasping for air as he climbed to his feet and barreled into the bathroom with Sam hot on his heels.  
>Dean spotted a figure in the centre of the floor, cocooned in thick, white webbing from head to toe. He scooped the Jo-shaped parcel up into his arms, and carried her out to the bedroom where he placed her on the bed. He ripped frantically at the sticky web that encased her, working his fingers through it until Jo's features became visible.<br>"Jo?" Dean shook her gently, brushing cobwebs from her face. He was relieved to find that her skin was comfortingly warm to the touch. Jo's eyes suddenly flashed open and widened instantly in terror as the memory of her attacker came flooding back to her.

"It's okay, I've got you," Dean assured her, sitting at Jo's side and pulling her into his arms as his heartbeat gradually began to slow. Sam exchanged glances with his brother and nodded discretely, wandering over toward the window to allow them a moment of privacy.  
>"The spider?" Jo asked, spluttering as she pulled tiny strands of web from her mouth and lips.<br>"Exterminated," Dean replied, glancing over pointedly toward the creature's remains.  
>Jo shuddered, taking a deep breath and letting her head fall back against his shoulder.<br>"You okay?" he checked, pushing her hair away from her face, where tiny strands of white silk were tangled amidst her blonde waves.  
>Jo nodded, glancing first at the crumpled sheets on the bed and then at a rather angry looking bruise on Dean's neck that could only have been made by a persistent pair of lips.<p>

She traced her fingertip over the love bite and then pulled the collar of his t-shirt back, examining his skin for further injury.  
>"How'd you know it wasn't me?" she asked, sliding her hand around Dean's neck and resting her forehead against his cheek.<p>

"I just knew," Dean said simply, unable to explain the sense of certainty that had overtaken him. "She was a pale imitation of the real thing. I'd always know you, Jo."

The two hunters melted into a tender kiss that Sam was loathed to interrupt; however, he was more than a little concerned that their scuffle had drawn the attention of the motel owner. The destruction of several pieces of furniture in the room would more than likely have been heard by the neighbours, and Sam was glad that for this particular stay they had opted to pay in cash.

"Sorry guys but I think we should burn this thing and get the hell out of town," said Sam, directing a thoroughly disgusted look at the spider corpse, which he figured would require more gasoline than usual to ignite.

"Stuff it in the trunk, head out to a nice, secluded field and have us a little barbecue," Dean said with a nod of approval. He reached out in order to help Jo free herself from the rest of the webbing that was clinging to her body and her clothing.

"Man, I need another shower," Jo griped, deliberately avoiding looking over at the Jorogumo. "This case was the worst."

"Hey, at least you weren't molested by the thing," Dean and sniffed indignantly.  
>"I guess she wanted you as her baby-daddy, Dean," Sam grinned, his eyes dancing merrily as Dean simply folded his arms across his chest and arched an eyebrow.<p>

Dean stared thoughtfully at the giant spider corpse and rubbed his chin, wondering how they were ever going to fit the body into the trunk.  
>With a slightly sinister grin, Dean rubbed his hands together gleefully, "I'm gonna need garbage bags and a big ass knife."<p>

**x-x-x**

The three hunters gathered around the bonfire they had started, watching with satisfaction as the flames devoured the carcass of the Jorogumo hungrily. Sam stood with his hands in his pockets whilst Dean draped one arm loosely around Jo's waist. There was a slight chill to the night air, and Jo sidled closer to Dean.

With their belongings packed and jammed into the backseat of the Impala, all that was left for the hunters to do was to dispose of the evidence before they could leave town. Jo thought that she had never been so glad to see the back of one particular hunt in her entire career. Secretly, Dean agreed; having almost served as gigolo to a giant, ravenous spider-monster, Dean thought that he would probably never look at arachnids in quite the same way again.

"Here's to another job well done," Dean said, slipping a silver hipflask from his pocket and twisting the cap off. He took a sip before passing the flask to Sam, who politely declined with a shake of his head. Jo quirked an eyebrow, seizing the flask from Dean and drinking down a swig of bourbon.

Sam began to walk back towards the Impala, which was parked just out of sight of the highway up ahead.

"So, where to next guys?" he called over his shoulder as he heard Dean and Jo fall into step behind him.

"Home," Jo answered immediately, her tone belaying her eagerness to return to the roadhouse almost as much as the smile spread across her face.

"Home sounds good," Dean agreed, leading Jo by the hand toward the car. Sam walked along by his older brother's side, stifling a yawn as the hubbub of the evening began to catch up with him.

The trio turned once more to the bonfire and the beautiful sunrise appearing rapidly behind it. And Dean Winchester could not resist running the fingers of one hand up his girlfriend's side in a scuttling gesture just one final time.

**The End of Episode Two**

**(Next Episode – Save Our Souls)**

**Further info - The Jorogumo is a creature of actual Japanese myth; a giant spider who can take the appearance of a woman in order to 'mate'. We know, 'yuck'. This episode, believe it or not, was planned before we knew about the SPN episode 'Unforgiven'. The similarity is a genuine coincidence. **


	7. Chapter 7

_**Authors' Note – Thank you to everyone who has read and/ or reviewed so far.**_

_**Episode Three – Part One**_

'_**Save Our Souls'**_

**x-x-x**

_**San Diego, California**_

_**May 18**__**th**__** 2011**_

With five restaurants, four swimming pools, an open air cinema, theatre, and ocean view gym, the Apollo was one of the largest and most breathtaking ships belong to the Starling Cruise Line.

Squinting against the bright Californian sunshine, Sam Winchester peered up at the upper most deck of the ship and grinned in anticipation. The last time Sam had been on a trip that even half way resembled a vacation was in college and, although not a vacation in the strictest sense of the word, Sam could not deny that he was looking forward to travelling all-expenses paid on a luxury cruise.

Dean and Jo followed behind dragging their luggage as Sam stepped onto the gangplank, and eagerly boarded the ship. He seemed unconcerned by the fact that the other passengers milling around them were mostly retired married couples, shuffling along hand in hand. The three young hunters were conspicuous in their presence to say the least.

Whilst Sam was excited by the prospect of a fortnight sailing the Mexican coast, Dean and Jo were viewing the excursion with dread. However, they all recognised that an actual paid hunt was too rare of an opportunity to overlook.

A little more than a week before, Bobby had been contacted by a friend of a friend who was somehow connected to the CEO of the cruise line. It seemed that recent events had caused considerable panic on board the Apollo and the owners were looking for a speedy and effective solution to their apparently supernatural woes.

Hence, Sam, Dean and Jo were now boarding the cruise and awaiting further instruction as to the nature of the ship's paranormal malaise. Ever the conscientious researcher, Sam had first set about looking up the ship's passenger history; he had been confused to find little or no mention of any incidents that might be looked upon with suspicion. A tragic drowning on the ship's maiden voyage had admittedly marred the vessel's early years, yet he could find nothing further suggestive of what they were likely facing.

Of course, Dean had been none too impressed with the secrecy concerning the job, and had proceeded to pack almost every weapon they owned. His philosophy was that if they were 'pissing in the dark', they should at least be ready for any eventuality.

Jo had been the only one of the three hunters not to voice her opinion on the matter. Sam presumed that this was perhaps because her thoughts were focused elsewhere. Before they had returned from the recent Jorogumo hunt, the newly employed barman at the roadhouse had resigned, taking with him several bottles of Cuervo and a crate of Johnnie Walker. It seemed that a fight had broken out in the bar during Jo's absence and, having suffered a broken nose courtesy of a poorly aimed punch, the guy had decided to cut and run, helping himself to a generous amount of liquor as compensation. To say that Jo was pissed was an understatement. Dean had never seen her quite so furious as when she had come home to discover the roadhouse closed up and the cellar minus a few hundred dollars worth of booze. As exhausted as she had been from the hunt, Jo had been set on hopping in the Impala and hunting the guy down to unleash her wrath. It had taken both Dean and Sam to dissuade her from that particular course of action; although, as they had swept up broken glass and splintered wood from the floor of the bar well into the early hours of the morning, the boys had begun to wonder why they had bothered.

As of yet, Jo's search for a new, more trustworthy barman had proven unsuccessful, and she had been forced to leave Bobby holding down the fort for the time being. Although Dean had insisted that Jo could sit the hunt out if she preferred, Sam knew that his brother's assurances had been for Jo's benefit only; Dean slept far sounder with Jo in his arms. It was both refreshing and bizarre for Sam to witness, but he was above all thrilled that his brother had finally found someone he could allow himself to love.

"I hope you guys don't get sea sick," Jo said, finally breaking the companionable silence that had lasted for the best part of the journey to the docks. Dean glanced at his girlfriend, his expression bordering on amused before he replied.

"Wouldn't know, never been on a ship," he answered, tapping the wall of the corridor for emphasis as he ducked into a doorway. "And, it's not a plane, so things are looking good so far."

Dean dropped back in an act of unusual chivalry, and a slightly suspicious expression crossed Jo's features as she drifted past him. Sam frowned as he noted that Dean's eyes had flitted from Jo to an elderly passenger loitering near the stairwell. The old man was smiling to himself and it did not take long for Sam to realise that his gaze and lewd grin were directed at Jo's retreating form.  
>"You know, that could be you in fifty years time," Sam observed with a smirk. He hefted his baghigher onto his shoulder and strolled off ahead, leaving Dean to face off with his geriatric rival.<p>

"Hey grandpa!" Dean called out, snapping his fingers to attract the old man's attention. He shook his head and glowered before strolling off to catch up with Jo.

"So, did they put us in steerage or are we gonna be rowing with the other slaves?" Dean asked, watching as Jo removed a crumpled letter from her back pocket.  
>"Huh?" she frowned, glancing intently at the check-in letter she held.<p>

"Never mind," Dean sighed, not loving how preoccupied Jo appeared to be at the moment. The kind of levels of distraction she had been displaying of late could prove fatal on a hunt, and Dean found himself wishing that she had elected to stay home this time after all.

After disappearing into the small crowd in order to collect their room keys, Jo returned minutes later and handed a plastic card over to Sam. She was wearing an obvious frown, the bridge of her nose crinkled in a tell tale fashion.

"I think they got our room arrangements mixed up," she explained, shooting Dean a glance, "you and Sam are in room 230 and I got room 236. I guess it's single beds all round."

"Aw man," Dean groaned, glaring at Sam as though the error were in fact all his fault. Sam's eyes widened and his mouth pressed into a bewildered line.

"What did I do?" he demanded as Dean stormed ahead down the corridor. Jo hid a smile and simply reached up to pat Sam sympathetically on the shoulder.

With a thoroughly theatrical sigh, Dean jammed the key card into the lock, waiting impatiently for the light to turn green, and then strode into the room. He ignored the elaborate decor, complimentary gift basket, and the feature balcony window to instead focus with raging disapproval on the twin beds.  
>"Wow, nice cabin," Sam breathed, clearly impressed. The gleaming, modern decor was a welcome break from the cheap motel rooms they had endured over the years and Sam intended to relish every minute. Dean shrugged, unwilling to acknowledge the truth within Sam's words as his irritation refused to ebb away. He turned sharply as Jo appeared at his side in order to lean against his shoulder.<p>

"Nice rooms," she remarked, catching the disinterested sniff Dean emitted.  
>"Seriously," Sam agreed as he dropped his bag down onto the farthest bed and surveyed the cabin. He ran the fingertips of one hand experimentally across the bed sheets, finding himself embarrassingly excited by their luxuriously soft feel.<br>"Well, we got an hour until we've got to meet the cruise director," Jo stated, lifting Dean's wrist so as to glance down at his watch, "I don't know about you guys but I think I'm gonna take a nap... in my nice, big double bed."  
>Jo could not contain the teasing grin on her face as she arched an eyebrow in Dean's direction and began to saunter out of the cabin. Dean almost visibly deflated.<p>

"This sucks," Dean griped, slamming the door behind Jo and throwing his bag down onto the unclaimed bed.

"So not even the all you can eat buffet meals will cheer you up?" Sam inquired with feigned innocence and a quirked brow. Dean shrugged; his expression was sulky like a petulant child, bringing a smirk to Sam's lips readily.

"Maybe," Dean replied with a sniff after an interval. Sam turned his back on his older brother in order to better disguise his amusement, and began to unpack his few belongings into the top drawer of the dresser that stood nearby.

"So what details do we know already?" asked Sam as he placed balled up socks and perfectly pressed boxer shorts into the drawer, smoothing any wrinkles that had appeared in the material during transit.

Dean huffed and dropped down onto the bed, watching with evident disdain as Sam continued to unpack an array of carefully laundered and pressed clothing.  
>"Dude, you ironed your underwear?" Dean shook his head and then leant back against his pillows, scrutinising the ceiling as he finally opted to address Sam's question.<br>"Nothing... zilch... nada... squat," he supplied, evoking a deep sigh from Sam as he slammed the drawer closed.  
>"Helpful Dean, real helpful." Sam sat down on the edge of his own bed and retrieved his laptop. He stabbed at the power button and waited for the WiFi signal to be detected.<br>"Yeah, well I'm not in a real 'thinking' mood right now, Sammy," Dean scowled, lacing his hands behind his head. Sam deliberated over digging any further but eventually found that his natural curiosity got the better of him.  
>"Did you guys have a fight?" He winced as he prepared himself for the irritable reply he felt sure was headed his way.<p>

Instead however, Dean merely frowned and shook his head, "No. I mean... I don't think we did. Jo's been acting all kinds of crazy lately. She's distracted. I'm kind of worried about her."  
>Sam nodded in understanding, and glanced from the laptop screen to his brother, "You thought of asking what's bothering her?"<p>

Although the solution seemed obvious enough to Sam, he wondered if someone who could be as emotionally stunted as Dean had contemplated the idea. Sensing his brother's gaze upon him, Dean shrugged off the seriousness of the moment and sat upright on the edge of the bed, signaling an end to the discussion. Knowing all too well that any attempts to investigate further would be met with hostility, Sam decided to let the matter go for the moment.  
>"Kind of like old times, huh?" Sam smiled slightly at the fact they were once again sharing a room but Dean greeted the sentiment with an amused chuckle.<br>"No offense Sammy boy, but it's not your smiling face I like to look at when I wake up," Dean retorted with an air of derision that was hard to miss.

"Thanks dude," Sam muttered, beginning to inflict his irritation upon the laptop as he stabbed viciously at the keyboard. "I'm going to go through the ship's passenger history again, see what I can dig up."

"Fine," was Dean's curt reply as he dropped backwards onto the bed and closed his eyes, deciding that Jo's idea of a snatching a nap had been a good one.

"Maybe you could work on being less of a prissy bitch," Sam sniped as his fingers clicked away quickly.

The only response he was met with this time was the pointed extension of Dean's middle finger.

**x-x-x**

As Sam stared into the depths of the swimming pool the conversation being conducted around him merely drifted over his head without him fully comprehending a word of it. There was something so oddly hypnotising about the soft slosh of the water against the marble sides of the pool, and Sam took an almost tentative step forwards. He lowered his body into a crouch and peered hard into the water, his eyes finding and locking onto the intricate engravings that decorated both the walls and the bottom.

"I won't lie," Jack Collins stated with a barely detectable curl of his lip, "I'm not exactly thrilled for you guys to be playing 'Ghostbusters' in the middle of our busiest season. But Mr. Starling insists you be here so I have to indulge the old fool."

Dean swept his gaze over the surly cruise director and arched an eyebrow, "Hey... Jack? Can I call you Jack? We're professionals, okay? So how about you tell us why your boss dragged our asses across four states and fill us in on your little problem."  
>Jack visibly blanched and cleared his throat, folding his arms across his chest as he gestured toward the pool.<br>"Well, it would appear that this... area has been host to some rather unfortunate events over the years," he began carefully.  
>"Define an 'unfortunate event'," Jo narrowed her eyes, mirroring the man's stance as she crossed her arms and regarded him closely.<br>The cruise director sighed, appearing hesitant to continue, and he licked his lips almost nervously, "There have been a few drowning, although I would like to add that all of them can be explained logically and rationally."  
>"Why don't you let us be the judge of that," said Dean with a patronising grin, gesturing for Jack to continue.<br>"You know about the accident on the ship's maiden voyage?" He watched as Sam nodded in confirmation. "There have been four other deaths over the years, the second in 1971, then 1981, 1991 and 2001, all drowning victims, all in this pool and..." he swallowed uncomfortably, "all have happened within a specific time frame, around the anniversary of the maiden voyage."  
>"So why investigate the ship now?" Jo demanded, reasoning that there was clearly more to this story than had already been imparted.<p>

Jack glanced behind him at the subtly rippling water and a frown settled on his lips, "Because there was a sixth drowning last week, the day before the ship's re-launching gala."  
>"Who's the lucky stiff?" Dean enquired, watching the man visibly squirm before them.<br>"Mr. Starling's son." Jack avoided their gazes and shoved his hands into his pockets, "Now, as I already told you, please keep your... investigations... to this area. I don't want the other passengers to even know you exist. Do I make myself clear?"  
>"Crystal," Dean smiled charmingly, rubbing his hands together as he glanced first at Sam and then Jo in turn, "alright, you heard the man... let's strap on those proton packs and start blasting us some ghosts."<p>

Jack shot Dean a dubious glare before turning on his heel and marching out of the pool room, all the while muttering under his breath. Dean could only guess that whatever the man was saying, it was far from complimentary. Jo watched him leave through narrowed eyes and Dean could see her dislike for the director spelled out plainly in her expression.

"What an ass-wipe," she growled, flicking her hair over her shoulder and turning her attention to the swimming pool. She cocked her head to one side as she watched Sam, who was reaching out a hand to the surface of the water. However, the hunter seemed to think better of his gesture at the last minute, and withdrew his arm hurriedly before his fingers made contact.

"You found something Sammy?" Dean inquired, kneeling down at Sam's side and squinting as he peered to the bottom of the pool. Sam shook his head wordlessly then shrugged. It was clear to Dean from the thoughtful look that lingered in Sam's eyes that his mind was working overtime on something or other.

"Those pictures..." Sam began, gesturing to the carvings on the side of the pool that appeared to depict strange black, swimming shadow figures. "They just look sort of familiar."

Dean afforded the images a second glance. He shook his head as he failed to recognise the etchings upon the tiles and stood up from his stooping position.  
>"So, I guess we wait until dark and stay here tonight?" Jo shrugged, planting her hand on her hip and tapping her fingers absently against her side.<br>"Yep," Dean nodded, peering through the porthole windows and grinning as he watched a group of senior citizens who had gathered on the deck outside, "so, who's for a rousing game of shuffleboard?"  
>Jo chuckled, running her hands through her hair as she stifled a yawn, "No thanks, too much excitement for me. Think I'm gonna head back to my room for a while."<br>"Me too," Sam nodded, "I'm gonna see what I can dig up about the other drownings here, find out if any of the other victims had anything in common."  
>Dean jammed his hands in his pockets and scuffed his foot along the tiles at the poolside.<br>Jo rolled her eyes and extended her hand toward him, "You waiting for a written invitation, Winchester?"

Dean's eyes visibly lit up and Sam watched, amused, as Jo and Dean wandered out of the pool room hand in hand. As they reached the doorway, Dean's arm snaked around Jo's waist and her head came to rest in a familiar spot on his shoulder.

Finding himself alone, Sam turned back to the water and, for the briefest of moments, was certain that beneath the surface something large had stirred.

**x-x-x**

Jo let out a low murmur of contentment as Dean's fingers worked their magic on her tense shoulders. She had to admit that he was a master at giving massages and, having apparently noted her bad mood of late, was a lot more forthcoming with them. Jo tipped her neck to one side, allowing Dean access to the smooth skin of her shoulder blade. Although his hands were somewhat rough and calloused from two decades of abuse, they worked out the knots in Jo's body perfectly and always felt wonderful grazing her bare skin.

Jo emitted another quiet groan of pleasure and, with a smile, Dean dropped a kiss against the crown of her head.

"So," he began, clearing his throat before continuing, "is there even the slightest chance you're gonna tell me what's been eating you the last few days?"

Jo sagged a little, glad that she was currently lying on her stomach with Dean kneeling up behind her on the bed, thereby proving it impossible for him to see the sorrow that crossed her features.

"And don't tell me it's nothing, okay?" Dean added, "I'm the master of denial, so... out with it, what'd I do?" He stretched out beside her, his face clearly betraying his underlying anxiety.  
>Jo smiled and rolled over to face him, "You didn't do anything, Dean."<br>Relief washed over his features, and Dean reached out to sweep hair from Jo's face, "Okay, so this whole 'relationship' thing is kind of new to me and I don't want to screw this up, Jo. So if something's bothering you, you gotta tell me what it is."  
>"This is all new to me too," she agreed, smiling apologetically, "but these last eight months have been really... good."<p>

She avoided his gaze and smiled shyly, almost as uncomfortable with discussing her feelings as Dean.  
>"Good?" he repeated, smirking as he playfully pinched her waist. Jo laughed and slid her hand up his chest before she leant in and pressed her lips to his in a kiss that assured him that she had been understating her feelings. Dean smiled as she pulled away, drawing her back toward him and repeating the kiss before he allowed her to resettle herself in his arms.<p>

"So," he coaxed, "if it's not about you and me, then..."  
>Jo groaned, biting down on her bottom lip. She had hoped that their kiss would prove distracting enough to veer Dean away from the subject of her fears.<p>

"I just... It's stupid, I know, but... all this stuff lately at home is really stressing me out," she confessed, waiting a few seconds before she glanced up to meet his gaze.  
>"That's not stupid," he shrugged, gathering her closer and wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head on his chest, "but, we'll hire someone else, we'll figure it out. And until we do, Bobby's all over it."<br>"What if I can't? Figure it out, I mean?" she asked quietly, her hand wandering over his chest and pausing to toy with the stitching on his collar.  
>"Hey, you got me and Sammy in this too," Dean reminded her as his arms embraced her in reassurance.<br>Jo's voice dropped to little more than a whisper as she confessed, "I just don't want to let my Mom down, Dean."

"That could never happen, Jo," said Dean with such assurance that Jo was immediately taken aback. Gently, he cupped her face in his hands and tipped her chin so that their eyes collided. Jo found herself holding her breath as she stared into the abyss of perfect emerald green.

"Ellen loved you more than anything in this world," he promised, "the only way you could let her down, is to make yourself unhappy. She wanted you to live, not to just go through the motions. Ease up on yourself a little, okay?"

Jo gave a brief nod and Dean smoothed one palm across her cheek before sliding it upwards in order to run his fingers through her hair.

"Thank you," said Jo, a smile settling on her lips, "I can always count on you, huh?"

"Better believe it sweetheart," answered Dean in a heartbeat, winking as an afterthought which caused Jo to dissolve into giggles.

"My white knight," she teased, inching closer to Dean and brushing the tip of her nose against his. He shrugged, a slight jerk of his shoulders that somehow managed to tug his features into a serious expression.

"The armour's a little tarnished," he murmured, his eyes downcast for a fraction of a second.

"That's okay," she soothed, tracing her fingertip over the frown line that had suddenly appeared on his face, "in case you haven't noticed Winchester, I kind of like you as you are."  
>Dean sighed happily as her hand swept down his cheek and jaw. Her touch was soft and soothing; the one that Dean had been missing most of his life.<br>"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, you know that?" he asked, managing to contain his discomfort at how sappy he was beginning to sound. The smile that suddenly illuminated her features made his momentary discomfort entirely worthwhile and he held her in his arms that little bit tighter in response.  
>"I know," she nodded, shrieking with laughter as he rolled her underneath him and chuckled at her self-assurance.<br>"Hey, I'm trying to be serious here," he widened his eyes, imploring her to do likewise.

"Sorry," she repented, affixing him with a more serious expression, although she was unable to fully wipe all traces of amusement from her face.  
>Dean tutted in mock disdain, "You're a pain in the ass sometimes, Harvelle."<p>

His eyes searched hers as the light tone of their conversation became suddenly more intimate.  
>"But you love me anyway," she stated, her arms encircling his neck.<br>"God help me, but I do," he acknowledged, pressing a brief yet tender kiss against her lips as he added, "more than anything."  
>Her eyes remained closed and she slid her hand around the back of his neck whilst he nuzzled her cheek. Inclining her head to claim his lips once more, she brushed her thumb over the shell of his ear and paused momentarily to reply in kind.<p>

"I love you too."

**x-x-x**

The Apollo had set sail hours ago, and Sam had found it both strange and unnerving when nightfall had descended with nothing around them but deep, dark water. Sam could swim just fine but there was something about not being able to see to the bottom of the ocean that had always made him somewhat nervous. The Neptune pool aboard the Apollo gave him the same niggling feeling of unease and Sam was being careful not to turn his back on the water as he set up the equipment for the night.

The hunters sat in fold out chairs on the side of the pool, their shotguns loaded with rock salt and laid across their knees, whilst a host of hi-tech equipment stood at their side. The needle on the EMF metre had not so much as twitched in the hour that the trio had been stationed in their posts, and they were quickly growing bored with their watch.

"Tell me again what you found Sammy?" Dean inquired, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and index finger. "Cos I'm beginning to think this little stake out is nothing but a big fat waste of time."

"Six bodies found in the pool since the ship's maiden voyage in 1961, all falling in ten year cycles within ten days of the initial launch date," Sam intoned boredly, leaning back in his chair and stretching his aching legs out in front of him. "Not all causes of death were ruled as drowning, all the victims were different genders, and ages... no common denominators I could see. I just can't connect the dots on this one."

"Well, maybe we should start with the first victim," Jo suggested, crossing her legs and shifting the weight of her shotgun. "Someone died the night the ship first sailed, right?"

Sam nodded, fishing in his top pocket and retrieving a wad of notes he had hastily compiled earlier.  
>"Elizabeth Rothschild. Twenty six years old, married to Franklyn Rothschild, heir to some insurance empire," he shook his head and passed Jo the papers, "witnesses say they had some pretty nasty fights and their maid gave a statement to the cops not long after the accident about how Mr. Rothschild was kind of handy with his fists."<br>Jo grimaced in evident disdain and skimmed the newspaper article that relayed the events shortly after Elizabeth's death.  
>"Cops linked the husband to the murder, but they didn't have anything to pin it on him. Guy hired some hot shot lawyer and the thing never went to trial," Sam supplied, watching as Jo handed Dean the clippings and glanced over toward the pool area, a shudder running up her spine.<br>"Accidental drowning," Dean nodded, narrowing his eyes as he stared down at the photograph of the sombre couple, "you think she's our girl? Vengeful spirit?"

"Maybe," Sam said, his tone tinged with doubt. "But why kill so many innocent people, some who weren't even born when she died?"

"I guess a vengeful spirit is more likely to target people related to the murderer," Dean conceded, although his teeth were gritted against his words as though the very idea annoyed him. It was evident that Dean was eager to at least identify the object of their hunt, or indeed if their presence aboard the Apollo was even necessary.

"What about the second victim?" Jo attempted, taking a swig from a bottle of mineral water at her side. She passed the bottle to Dean who pressed it to his lips and drank deeply. The heat in the swimming pool was truly intolerable, and all three of the hunters had stripped down to simply jeans and their undershirts. Jo's blonde hair was plastered to her forehead, and Dean could feel trickles of sweat coursing down the nape of his neck.

"1971, a guy by the name of Joseph Macdonell," said Sam, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead and grimacing. "Took over his father's company in '68 then made a string of bad deals that sent the whole firm into administration. It was explained away as a suicide."

"Maybe it's him," Dean suggested, "unfinished business, or an angry poltergeist."

"Victim number three?" Jo queried, sagging back against her chair and blowing out a steady puff of breath as the she found the heat growing unbearable.

"Uh..." Sam floundered, flipping through the press cuttings and brushing his hair from his eyes as the heat matted his bangs to his forehead, "okay, George Abercombe in 1981. Partner in a big ass law firm out in LA; type A personality, overweight, stress levels off the chart... coroner said the guy had a heart attack."  
>"Another accidental drowning," Dean sighed, leaning his head back against his chair.<br>"The victims have nothing in common at all?" Jo asked, wearing a frown that mirrored Dean's. She pulled her hair hastily into a ponytail, and secured it with an elastic band she produced from her pocket.  
>Sam shook his head and shrugged, "No, the vic. in 1991 was just a kid. Brittany Cooper, only three years old."<br>"What about the parents?" Dean asked, taking another large gulp of water before offering it to Sam.  
>Sam gratefully accepted the bottle and paused before taking a mouthful, "They said she wandered away from the cabin, staff searched the whole ship and found her here in the pool."<p>

"Poor kid," Jo said, frowning into the depths of the water and finding nothing but her own reflection staring back at her. "What about the last one in 2001, before Starling's son?"

"Roger Hopkiss," read Sam, ignoring Dean's smirk at the somewhat comical name. "He was hired by the cruise line to film a promotional video. He was found floating face down in the pool complete with a gaping head wound. Had too much to drink, decided to go for a moonlight swim, and banged his head. Ruled an accidental death."

"Why are we even here?" Dean demanded, snatching the clippings from Sam and beginning to leaf through them rapidly as though he may find an answer printed on the pages.

"There's an undeniable pattern," admonished Sam with reluctance, "the ten year, ten day cycles. It's too much to be coincidence."

"But whatever this thing is, surely it's claimed it's victim for this decade," Jo reasoned as she tapped the most recent article regarding Mr. Starling's son for emphasis. "Call me a pessimist, but even if we do manage to somehow work out what it is killing these people, then what if we gotta wait another ten years for it reappear so we can bust it's ass?"

"Jo's right, Sammy," Dean nodded resolutely, "so unless we can find some way of baiting this thing out there's not a whole lot else we can do. Case is a bust."  
>Sam screwed the cap back onto the water bottle firmly. "Well, let's sit it out here tonight at least," he reasoned, not yet prepared to admit defeat.<p>

Dean and Jo nodded in agreement and all three hunters fell into a comfortable silence as they merely gazed around the pool.  
>"Where was this thing built?" Dean suddenly asked, sitting up straighter in his chair and pulling his sweat stained t-shirt up and over his head. Catching a glimpse of his taught abdominal muscles, Jo's lips curved into a smile and she felt the temperature in the room climb by a few more degrees.<br>"Scotland," Sam replied without missing a beat, frowning as Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Why, you got an idea?"  
>Dean stared into the bottom of the pool, toward the carvings in the tile, "Don't know, just trying to cover all our bases. We know anything about the guy who commissioned the ship?"<br>Jo arched an eyebrow and continued to fan herself with her hand, "I guess this ship has been kind of unlucky from the get-go."

"Are you kidding me?" demanded Sam, suddenly turning an angry glare upon Dean that then flicked to Jo before coming back to rest upon his elder brother. Jo winced as realisation hit her.

"We were supposed to research that, weren't we?" she asked quietly, her eyes trained almost guiltily upon the floor. Sam did not answer, instead just stared in a manner that almost made Jo want to reach for the vial of holy water she always kept upon her person.

"Hey, we got distracted," Dean said defensively, licking his lips as he struggled to formulate a suitable excuse for their failure.

"I'll bet you did," drawled Sam, his tone drenched in disdain and his features a mask of disapproval. "One thing guys, one little thing. I'm disappointed."

"Sorry Sam," Jo mumbled, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as she avoided Sam's gaze. Dean on the other hand, let out a rebellious snicker that did not go undetected by the younger Winchester.

He winced as Jo elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a glare that signaled he was to at least act repentant. However, despite his brother's disdain and his girlfriend's evident disapproval, Dean found it difficult to regret the more enjoyable use of their assigned 'research time'. Besides, he reasoned that after the nine arduous days of driving clear cross country to California, he and Jo were due at least a couple of hours of private time.  
>It had also provided them the opportunity to talk and he was glad that her fears over the running of the roadhouse had been discussed. He had not enjoyed being in the dark about her feelings, and her slightly distant mood of late had bothered him more than he cared to admit. All in all, he figured the hours they had spent together that afternoon were more than worth Sam's irritation.<p>

Rooting through the bag beside him, Dean produced a clean t-shirt which he pulled on hurriedly. Finally relenting and, at Jo's insistent digging in the ribs, he directed a placating smile at Sam and gestured to the file sticking out of the gym bag at his feet.

"We'll hit the books later okay? You can go take a nap or whatever and we'll see what we can dig up on this tin can," Dean offered, folding his arms across his chest as Sam nodded.  
>"Yeah, okay," Sam agreed, shooting Jo a slightly embarrassed look. He was aware that his temper had been running a little short lately; a fact that he found himself unable to explain. "Look guys, I know you usually do your share of the book work, it's just... I guess I haven't been sleeping well lately."<p>

Jo cleared her throat and picked up her shotgun from her lap, beginning to sidle toward the changing rooms. She hooked her thumb in the direction she was headed and tossed over her shoulder, "I'm gonna take a look out back."  
>Sam smiled just a little at the less than subtle departure. Dean simply nodded in understanding as he watched Jo leave.<p>

"Be careful," he cautioned before Jo disappeared from sight, her blonde hair swinging as she departed.  
>"This doesn't mean we've gotta talk about our feelings now, does it?" Sam checked, watching as Dean winced in horror at the very idea.<p>

"What do ya take me for, Sammy?" Dean said with a snort, pulling a pack of chips from the bag suddenly and tearing into them. He offered the bag first to Sam and was surprised when his brother accepted a handful.

"Sorry I've been kind of... weird lately," Sam mumbled, shoving a potato chip into his mouth and chewing on it with vigour. Dean nodded once more, tossing a handful of snacks into his own wide open maw.

"You're not possessed again, are you?" he checked through mouthfuls of chips, causing a shower of crumbs to fly from his lips and spray the front of his shirt. Sam laughed and punched Dean lightly on the top of his arm.

"Jerk," he accused, shifting in his seat as though suddenly uncomfortable. His expression grew sober and Dean paused in his task of attempting to devour his snack before Jo reappeared to relieve him of it.

"There a reason you're not sleeping well?" Dean inquired, curious.

Sam shrugged, staring down absently at the chip in his hand, "I don't know, weird dreams, I guess."  
>"You guess?" Dean frowned, tossing the packet of chips onto Jo's seat and rubbing his greasy hands down the legs of his jeans. Dean swallowed uncomfortably and appeared to mull over his next words, "Dreams about... uh..."<br>"Jess?" Sam finished his brother's hesitant sentence, "I don't know, I don't even remember them when I wake up."  
>Dean appeared momentarily thoughtful, staring out across the pool as he shook his head sadly.<br>"It was her birthday last week," Sam released a heavy hearted sigh and leant back in his chair, "maybe that's what it is. I guess she's been on my mind more than usual lately."  
>Sam watched as Dean opened his mouth to reply, hastily swallowing his words as he dropped his gaze to the shotgun in his lap.<br>"Dean, seriously, it's got nothing to do with you and Jo," Sam assured him, noting the relieved yet tight smile that Dean gifted him, "I'm happy for you guys, I mean that."

"I know you are dude," Dean answered finally. He opened his mouth to add more, however before the words came to him, a shout from the changing rooms drew their collective attentions.

Sam and Dean leapt to their feet and, clutching their shotguns high to their chests, they tore towards the changing area. Their boots slapped the slick tiles and the brothers skidded somewhat comically before rounding the corner and appearing in the doorway of the ladies' shower rooms.

"Jo!" Dean yelled hoarsely, cocking his weapon as he barreled through the swinging door and into the room. He found himself practically nose to nose with Jo, who threw both hands up in the air in surrender as the nose of Dean's gun jabbed her chest.

"Woah!" Jo cautioned eyes wide as Dean lowered his gun in the next instant.

"What the hell, Jo?" demanded Dean, his tone incredulous. "I could have shot you."

"I was yelling for ages," said Jo defensively, folding her arms and arching an eyebrow. "I could have been in real trouble and you two chuckleheads were too busy touching and sharing to hear me."

Dean cleared his throat in a self-conscious gesture, "So, you find something or were you just trying to give us heart failure?"  
>Jo rolled her eyes before gesturing to the floor beneath them. Sam and Dean dutifully followed the beam of her flashlight across the white tiled floor. The tiles themselves were interspaced at random with deep, green marble inserts, and the pattern continued across the room without exception.<br>"Take a look at this," Jo directed, walking them back toward the entrance to the pool side and bending down to pick up a piece of broken tile.  
>Dean knelt at her side and watched as she shone her flashlight closer to the tile edge and slotted it back into place beside the other fragment on the floor.<br>"Huh," Sam frowned, watching as the two pieces fitted together to form what looked a lot like an incantation.

Dean bent down next to the fractured tile and handed his own flashlight to Jo, who obligingly positioned it over his shoulder. Rummaging in his pocket for a moment, Dean produced a notepad which he then laid down next to the script in order to copy it.

"You got any ideas what that means Sam?" asked Jo, peering at the engravings with interest even as Dean copied them onto the pad.

"Well, it's not Latin," said Sam with some confidence, his cheeks colouring as he added, "but aside from that..."

Dean clambered to his feet and flipped his notepad closed before jamming it into his pocket. Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean swung his shotgun onto his shoulder and allowed it to hang there from its strap.

"Let's head back to the rooms," Dean suggested, eyeing the EMF metre hopefully and then grunting as he noted that the needle had not so much as twitched during the course of their investigation. "We can hit the books and check the cameras in the morning. Nothing's showing here tonight."

Sam and Jo both exchanged brief glances of agreement, and began to gather their scattered bags, and weapons. Within minutes the hunters were ready to leave, each exhausted and doubting the validity of the hunt that they had been employed to conduct. As they exited the pool area, Dean secured the double doors behind them with the keycard that he had been issued.

"Damn ghost hunt with no damn ghosts," Dean growled quietly, rattling the doors behind him in order to test the lock. The last thing he needed was that pompous cruise director coming down on him for neglecting to secure the pool.

He muttered his discontent under his breath all the way down the corridor, his fatigue finally beginning to get the better of him.

As the footsteps of the hunters disappeared down the long corridor, the water of the Neptune pool began to bubble and boil.

**x-x-x**

The toolbox hit the deck with a decisive slam as Adam Lowe stood poised before the apparently defective hot tub, hands planted on his hips. The cause of the problem seemed glaringly obvious to the maintenance technician, and he watched as the neon strings of a bikini top fluttered from the main vent. Clearly some measure of human error had contributed to this instance of mechanical failure.

"Seriously? This shit again?" he muttered to himself, as he reached toward the control panel and shut off the power. He tried to recall whether this was the seventh or eighth instance he had been called to repair one of the ship's hot tubs and found an item of clothing to be the cause of the problem. Since the passenger manifesto was largely made up of senior citizens for this trip, Adam had been hoping that such instances would have been at a minimum. His suspicions instantly fell to the wedding party on board and he made a mental note to discuss his findings with the cruise director; cavorting in public places was after all strictly prohibited.

Rolling up his sleeve, he reached into the water and yanked unceremoniously on the garment, cursing out loud as it refused to budge; it had obviously become tangled in the vent face. Muttering a string of expletives, Adam turned to rummage in the tool box, not noticing the slow bubbling that had begun beneath the surface of the water.

Holding aloft the tool he had plucked from the box, Adam knelt at the side of the hot tub and set to work unscrewing the panel. From beneath the now rippling surface, a shadow swept ominously from the depths of the water. The bubbling became suddenly more violent and Adam frowned as the steam from the boiling water suddenly bathed his cheeks.

The screwdriver fell from his hand instantly and a frenzied scream filled the gymnasium as the water rose up from the surface; the eerie shape of a grasping hand reached out and enclosed around his neck. Where disembodied fingers clutched at his throat, Adam's skin began to sizzle and peel.

Adam struggled against the phantom hand, gasping and screaming in panic before finally, his attacker overcame him and he was plunged beneath the water.

Gradually, his attempts at resistance ceased and his body rose to the surface of the now boiling water.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Authors' Note – If you haven't already, check out our comedy collab 'No Brainer'. Another Dean/Jo oneshot fic inspired by the supposed end of the world this weekend, (which was an epic fail). 'No Brainer' has been nominated for a GiggleSnort award, so if anyone would like to help our chances, please consider nominating it in the oneshot category. **_

_**We also have a new two-part collab entitled 'Stem The Flow'. Obviously Dean/Jo pairing, but does contain spoilers for the season 6 finale, which we did NOT watch illegally on Youtube. Promise.**_

_**Reviews are gold dust. Thanks guys!**_

_**Episode Three – Part Two**_

'_**Save Our Souls'**_

_**x-x-x**_

With the seductively enticing scent of fried bacon wafting under his nostrils and the smile of his beautiful girlfriend focused solely upon him, Dean Winchester figured his day was off to a pretty damn good start. Having awoken to an ocean sunrise with Jo sprawled in his arms, it had been the first real peaceful and relaxing moment he could remember in a long time. Thoughts of their less than successful hunt the previous evening had been forgotten, in a haze of slow, explorative kisses and the blissful sensation of Jo's skin against his own.  
>The promise of an 'all you can eat' breakfast buffet had eventually lured them from their room and even Sam had seized the opportunity for sleep and relaxation, as Dean noted his younger brother had yet to join them for breakfast.<br>Gazing out at the impossibly blue ocean beyond the dining room windows, he smiled and gave Jo's hand a squeeze.

The blonde hunter returned the grin before taking a sip of coffee and picking up a rasher of crispy bacon.

"You know, I think I could get used to this," Dean stated, turning his gaze from the view outside to the mass of various breakfast foods that he had somehow managed to pile onto his plate.  
>Jo shrugged, lacing both hands around her coffee mug as she shook her head in disagreement.<p>

"You'd get bored eventually," she stated with confidence, watching as Dean slathered a generous helping of butter onto the muffin in his hand, "this is nice, but you're a hunter, it's who you are. Besides, you take off for a life on the open seas and what would happen to the Impala?"  
>Dean's thoughts suddenly settled upon his cherished car, who now sat waiting for them in the secure parking lot at the docks.<br>"You think she's okay?" he asked in a strained voice, his features suddenly clouding over with concern.  
>Jo giggled and nodded, "I'm sure she's just fine, Dean."<br>Dean appeared to think this over. Meanwhile, Jo seized the opportunity of his distraction to steer his hand in her direction and took a large bite out of the muffin he held.  
>He arched an eyebrow in response and sighed, "It's a good thing for you that you're hot."<br>Jo smiled impishly, blinking as Dean pressed a kiss to her buttery lips and then brushed his thumb over the corner of her mouth to wipe away a residual crumb.  
>"Hey Sam," Jo's head turned sharply at the sound of a plate being lowered onto the table and she beamed in welcome at the younger Winchester.<p>

"Morning guys," Sam returned her smile, looking a little more rested and refreshed than he had for a while.  
>"You sleep okay, Sammy?" Dean asked, taking a sip of juice and glancing over at his brother analytically.<br>"Actually, I did," Sam nodded, relieved that his sleep pattern seemed to be returning to normal again. Dean's brow furrowed as he watched Sam's eyes settle on first his plate and then Jo's, before resting on his own bowl of fruit salad.  
>"That's gross, you guys," Sam winced, eying the plates of scrambled eggs, fried eggs, bacon, pancakes, sausage patties, hash browns and biscuits that lay before the two hunters.<br>Jo grinned and sliced into a syrup covered pancake whilst Dean simultaneously shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth.  
>"Please," Dean guffawed, swallowing down his food before jabbing his fork at each of the foods on his plate, "I got all the major food groups right here."<br>"I guess I just wasn't aware that 'grease' was one of the major food groups," Sam retorted wryly, spearing a strawberry with his fork.

Dean pointedly ignored his younger brother and set about drowning both his eggs and sausages in ketchup. Sam rolled his eyes and, with decidedly less guilt than usual, conceded to add a sprinkling of sugar to his fruit.

"Well, that's a walk on the wild side right there," Dean teased, indicating the sugar bowl and shaking his head in mock disapproval.

"Smart ass," Sam complained although without any real conviction. His lips were twisted into an easy smile that he was desperately attempting to hide behind the pretence of wiping his mouth with his napkin.

"We'll finish up here and then head on over to the pool to check the cameras," Dean suggested, assuming his usual role as leader now that the hunting party was fully assembled and accounted for. "I doubt we'll find jack but I kind of feel bad taking the old guy's money without poking our noses in at least a few corners."

"You think this case is un-solveable?" Sam inquired, lowering his fork as though disturbed by the very idea. In six years of solo hunting, the Winchesters had yet to come up against a monster, spirit, demon or hellspawn that they could not defeat. The prospect of leaving a hunt wide open was thoroughly disconcerting, and Sam found his appetite somewhat waning. Jo appeared to feel likewise, and suddenly pushed her half eaten breakfast away before leaning back in her seat.

"At this point in the game, I don't know what I think Sammy," Dean began, suddenly trailing off and raising his gaze from his brother as from the corner of his eye he spotted Jack Collins steaming towards their table. The expression the cruise director wore was undoubtedly one of panic, and Dean noted that his shirt tails hung out of the waistband of his trousers, and he appeared to be wearing tennis shoes. Frowning, Dean pushed his breakfast aside as Jack came to a halt at the table and pulled up the one remaining vacant chair. His eyes swept wildly around the dining room, and his breath came in short, sharp little gasps that concerned Dean somewhat.

"Did you get it?" Jack demanded, his tone urgent but hushed as he spread his palms on the table and leaned towards the hunters. "Is it gone now?"

Dean cocked his head and shot Sam a puzzled glance. Jo pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes in the manner she often did when placing an interviewee under scrutiny.

"Did we what, what now?" asked Dean, genuinely uncertain how to respond to the strange questioning.

"Did you get... you know... the... thing?" repeated Jack more insistently this time, pausing in order to offer an odd smile to some of the passing guests.

"To tell you the truth Jackie-boy, we're not exactly sure you guys have a thing," Dean replied, about to continue further when Jack let out a shrill, nervous peel of laughter and banged his fist repeatedly on the table.  
>The three hunters exchanged bemused glances as the man nodded a little too emphatically and dabbed at his forehead with a napkin, "Oh, we uh... we have a thing. We definitely... have a thing."<br>"The man says they got a 'thing', Dean," Sam relayed stoically, biting back a smile as Dean raised both eyebrows and threw down his napkin onto the table top.  
>"Yes he does," Dean agreed, glancing sideways at Jo who was merely staring at the man, apparently unaffected by his rambling.<p>

Jack gulped and gestured toward them with a shaking hand, attempting to sound authoritative as he beckoned for them to follow him, "Come with me, please."  
>"Sweetheart, shall we?" Dean said charmingly, patting Jo's thigh as they moved to stand from their chairs and began to follow the cruise director who was striding through the crowd of diners.<br>"Remain inconspicuous," Jack directed through a wide smile as he traded greetings with several guests before he led the hunters into the elevator, and then all but collapsed against the wall whilst the doors closed.

"Alright, so..." Jo shook her head, folding her arms across her chest as she awaited an explanation.  
>Jack ran his hand through his hair and stared back at Jo from behind wild, red-rimmed eyes. "Adam... our pool maintenance technician..." he began unsteadily, closing his eyes and shuddering. "He was found this morning in one of the hot tubs in the gymnasium... dead."<p>

He jammed his finger down the collar of his shirt and then took a deep, steadying breath.  
>"Drowned?" Sam asked, slightly confused as his question prompted the man to shiver violently and shake his head.<br>"Boiled alive," Jack replied, his blue eyes wide in horror.

Jo muttered a quiet 'ew' and wrinkled her nose at the thought, whilst Sam and Dean wore similarly disturbed expressions.  
>"Boiled ailve?" Dean repeated askance, shaking his head as he tried to dispel the decidedly horrifying images from his mind, "you mean, like a... a giant, overall wearing lobster?"<br>"Dean," Sam scolded, shaking his head at his older brother who looked far too intrigued to care and simply shrugged off the censure.  
>"Wait," Jo held up her hand in order to halt the movement of the group as the elevator doors swung open, "I thought you said it was only the pool area this... whatever it is... hung out?"<p>

"It was until last night apparently," Jack replied, wringing his hands as he spoke. Jo noticed how his fingers trembled and he appeared to be bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Can we take a look at the crime scene?" asked Sam, earning himself a thoroughly disgusted glare from the cruise director.

"There may be some clues around the body as to what killed the guy," Jo explained, to which Jack nodded and then hurriedly stabbed another button on the elevator panel.

"We've sealed off the gym and the room in question, and telephoned ahead to the authorities. The body was found an hour ago so you have roughly six hours before we make an emergency stop," said Jack, leading the way down the corridor after exiting the elevator. He turned on his heel suddenly to face the hunters, his eyes wide for added emphasis as he hissed, "And for the love of God, do not let the other passengers find out. As far as they know, there was a flood from a burst pipe in the changing rooms. We'd be ruined if this got out."

"Nice to know you got your priorities straight," Jo muttered, brushing past Jack as they reached the end of the passage and he paused in front of the double glass doors belonging to the gymnasium.

"Just deal with this... whatever it is," retorted Jack, visibly shaken as his eyes roamed to the gym doors. A temporary 'no entry' sign had been affixed to one of the windows, and the lights inside were all out, casting the room into surprising gloom.

Taking a moment to prepare themselves for the scene that awaited them, the three hunters strode through the door.  
>"I'll wait outside," Jack called out, beginning to pace the hallway as they disappeared from view. Dean inhaled slowly, stealing himself for the sight of the body that lay concealed beneath a white sheet beside one of the hot tubs.<br>"Alright Sammy, why don't you uh..." he gestured over toward the swathed mound and grimaced in anticipation.  
>"Why don't you?" Sam bit back, irritated to once more find himself lumbered with corpse detail. Whilst Sam knew that digging around dead bodies was Dean's least favourite part of the hunt, it was not exactly a chore he relished either.<p>

The brothers glanced in Jo's direction as she sighed irritably and strode across the gym floor. Pausing for just a moment, she then yanked back the corner of the sheet and took a step back as she took in the remains of the late technician.  
>"Oh my God," she gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth and turning her head to the side at the sight of the reddened, boil ridden, peeling corpse.<p>

"I think I threw up in my mouth a little," Dean managed to choke out, pressing the back of his hand underneath his nose as he suddenly noted the rancid stench of human flesh that hung in the air.

"Wow, he really wasn't kidding when he said 'boiled'," Sam observed, taking a few steps forwards as Jo retreated to Dean's side, looking thoroughly sickened by the sight of the corpse.

Hesitantly, Sam pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and set about examining the technician's body. After giving his face a thorough once over that almost had both Dean and Jo gagging, Sam trailed his fingertips down the corpse's neck. Suddenly, he halted, fingering bruises that were only barely visible from beneath the severe burns that adorned almost every inch of the victim's skin.

"Guys, I don't think the burns were the cause of death here," Sam stated after a few minutes of silence had passed and he had concluded his exam. He pulled the sheet back over the body and set about removing his gloves.

"Do we even want to know what was?" inquired Jo. Her skin had adopted an almost greenish hue and Sam wondered just how many bodies the hunter had run across throughout the course of her career. Apparently not as many as Sam and Dean; Sam was undecided as to whether that classified Jo as simply less experienced, or just plain luckier.

"He was strangled," Sam said, shoving the balled up gloves into his pocket as the three hunters left the room, "there are definite pressure marks around his throat."

"So the question is, by what?" Dean muttered, "what kind of entity can move from place to place without being seen, strangle a guy then parboil his meat sack, and also make it all look like a tragic accident?"

"But it's always connected to the water, right?" Jo reasoned, glancing between the brothers as she continued, "all the other deaths happened in the Neptune pool, and now there's this poor schmuk in a hot tub."  
>"Okay, so... I'm still drawing a blank here," Dean shook his head, still non the wiser as to what kind of creature they were hunting, "does it live in the water, or is this thing walking around like a regular Joe and mingling with the passengers?"<br>Both Jo and Sam simultaneously shrugged, each wearing a suitably pained and thoughtful expression.  
>"And if it's now somehow moved from the pool to the hot tubs..." Sam arched an eyebrow, watching as Dean cringed in understanding and rubbed the back of his neck .<br>"Who knows where else it could show up," Dean finished his brother's sentence, envisioning the two hundred or so bathrooms, showers, pools, Jacuzzi tubs and even fountains that the creature might now have gained access to.

"Sam, did you work on translating that weird writing on the tiles?"Jo demanded, suddenly whirling around to face Sam who regarded her with alarm and a degree of guilt. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and rammed both hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"I uh... fell asleep..." he answered, bowing his head a little sheepishly. "I'll get right on it."

"Right, Dean here can look into supernatural creatures that may live in water or need it to survive, and I'll head over to the pool and see what the equipment turned up," Jo commanded rather than suggested. Dean shook his head, folding his arms across his chest and drawing himself up to his full height.

"Nuh uh, no way," he countered, narrowing his eyes in order to affix Jo with a suitably serious glare. "You are not going back to that pool on your own, unless you want to go the same way as a Baywatch extra."

Jo tsked in annoyance and mirrored Dean's pose, although she still fell shorter than him by at least five inches.

"It's not up for debate Dean," she retorted, her lower jaw jutting out in a demonstration of her determination on the matter.

"You're damn right it isn't," he argued as he continued staring her down, not so much as blinking as he fought his corner. Dean was prepared to drag out their altercation until Jo saw sense, and he frowned in surprise as she merely shot him a final glare of disapproval and marched off toward the door.  
>"Hey, wait... Jo, where the hell do you think you're going?" he demanded, storming off after her, Sam following behind at a jog in order to keep pace.<p>

"I just told you," she shrugged, changing tack and deciding not to rise to the bait. She paused as she pushed the door open and abruptly fell quiet as she came face to face with a familiar looking old man.

The guy flashed Jo a charming grin that reminded her oddly of the one she received often from Dean, and then he gestured to the gym with curiosity alight in his eyes.

"Excuse me, miss," he said, his voice surprisingly low and smooth despite his obvious age, "I was just looking for the chair aerobics class."

Jo opened her mouth to respond but the now velvety voice of the cruise director, who had been cowering against the wall previously, interrupted her.

"That's taking place on deck today, sir," Jack said, offering the old man a syrupy sweet smile and moving as though to take his arm in aid. The old man deftly sidestepped the advance and winked at Jo, who hid her amusement behind a cough.

"Oh, really?" the old man inquired, his interest clearly peaked now.

"Yes, we thought the sea air would do everyone some good," Jack deflected expertly, ushering the passenger towards the elevator with both hands. "Just go straight on up, I don't believe you've missed much, yet."

Nodding absently, the man directed a final interested glance at the gymnasium doors before shuffling off down the corridor, leaning heavily on a walking stick. Jack turned to Jo immediately, his expression changing to one of desperation.

"Did you get it?" he stammered, glancing between Dean and Jo.  
>"We're working on it," Jo replied curtly, raising both eyebrows in surprise as their host rounded on them in anger.<br>"But it's the benefit dinner tonight," he stated indignantly.

"Cancel it," Dean and Jo declared in unison, their eyes sliding across to each other in irritation.

Jack shook his head, answering without a second thought it appeared, "Absolutely no way. That's out of the question. The price of the benefit dinner was included in the tickets. Everyone on board will be there. The cruise line has spent thousands of dollars on this thing."

"Really? The dollar signs are all you're thinking about here?" Dean stated incredulously, "cos I thought that just maybe there'd be a tiny shred of human decency in you that would be concerned by the demon that seems to be murdering your staff."

"Can you please not say that out loud?" hissed Jack, peering about the corridor as though afraid that someone may have overheard such madness being discussed.

"I'm sorry, is there a more preferable term?" continued Dean, sneering, "how about, supernatural being with malicious intent?"

"Mr. Starling is paying you people good money to investigate this case," the director retorted, rising to his full height now and yet still finding himself several inches short of the top of Dean's head. However, Jack Collins stood his ground with the air of a man who had little clue as to what that actually entailed. When Dean leaned forwards, invading Jack's personal space, the older man shrank back although his resolute expression did not waver.

"You think we care about the money?" snarled Dean, thoroughly disgusted now by the cruise director's attitude and apparent lack of concern for the hundreds of innocent passengers under his care. "People are dying, and we are stuck on this boat with whatever is responsible. Your highest priority should be keeping everyone safe. Call off the dinner, or know that you're responsible when the next stiff turns up."

"The dinner is going ahead!" Jack said firmly, glancing between Dean and Jo before he turned to stomp back down the hall, leaving no room for further discussion.  
>"What an asshole," Jo declared, barely able to resist the urge to poke her tongue out after his retreating form.<br>Dean nodded in agreement and rubbed at the back of his neck.

"I guess we're going to a party."

**x-x-x**

Jo smiled as she speared the cherry floundering at the bottom of her drink with a cocktail stick, and popped it into her mouth.  
>"This blows," Dean muttered, his eyes scanning the pages of hastily scribbled notes as he struggled to hide the content of them from the eyes of passing guests.<br>"Alright, so it's gotta be some kind of water demon," Sam reasoned, averting his gaze as two old ladies from the adjacent table waggled their fingers at him. He cleared his throat and continued, "Question is, what the hell's it doing on an ocean liner?"  
>"And how is it moving it's creepy ass around the ship?" Jo chimed in, biting back a smirk as she noted the attention that both Sam and Dean were receiving from the more senior female dinner guests.<br>"It's gotta be moving through the water pipes," said Dean, unrolling a large blueprint of the ship and squinting at it analytically, "looks like the pools, hot tubs and all the damn fountains are connected to one water supply."

"So this thing could pop up anywhere," Jo said with a sigh. "Why are these things never simple?"

"There's no fun in simplicity," Sam joked, grinning as Jo swiped playfully at his arm.

"Did you find a list of possible suspects?" Jo directed the query at Dean, who shot her a somewhat sour glance. He was still smarting from the fact that Jo had indeed made good on her word to visit the Neptune pool alone and collect their equipment. Although no harm had befallen her, and the equipment had in fact failed to register even the slightest supernatural blip all night, Dean remained quietly angry. Jo's lack of regard for her own safety and gung-ho attitude unnerved him, and Dean found his concern difficult to either hide or suppress. Therefore, he voiced his objections where he could and when finding them ignored, he resorted to general pouting and immature behaviour. At present, he was indulging in the latter.

"Maybe," Dean answered, "but if I tell you, will you launch a one-woman assault team?"

"On you maybe," Jo replied sweetly, drumming her nails on the tabletop as her own irritation grew tenfold at Dean's attitude.

"Hey, we don't have time for a 'domestic' right now," Sam interjected, watching both hunters attempt to ignore the other.  
>"And it kind of makes me uncomfortable when you guys fight with each other," Sam added quietly, blinking as he realised how his confession sounded.<br>Dean grinned and shot Jo an affectionate glance before he turned his attention back to his brother, about to reply with a thoroughly smart-ass and teasing comment when a figure appeared beside them at the table.

"I was wondering if you gentlemen would mind if I took the young lady here for a spin around the dance floor?" the old man smiled widely, apparently oblivious to the unease spread across all three hunters' faces. His blue eyes crinkled as he regarded Jo and he winked at her as if to provoke a more favourable response. Dean glowered at the gesture, fairly certain that this was the same man who had been staring longingly at his girlfriend upon their arrival the previous afternoon.  
>"Uh... well, I..." Dean stammered, looking at Jo and shrugging as she appeared to be holding the white haired senior in an analytical gaze.<br>"The name's Charlie ma'am, Charlie Miller," he offered, realising that his request would be construed as peculiar when coming from a perfect stranger, "I was sitting over there, feeling pretty lonesome I got to admit, and then your pretty face put me in mind of someone I used to know."

Sam and Dean glanced at each other with a level of suspicion that seemed overly dramatic given the age and stature of Jo's new 'friend'. However, in their line of work they had learned quickly that looks could be all too deceiving.

Dean blinked as Jo rose from her chair and affixed a friendly smile upon her face. Something about the old man's countenance seemed somehow endearing to her and she was satisfied that, at least for now, he posed no threat. Jo was used to bantering with the customers at the roadhouse and although it was a slightly odd request it was not the first time a stranger had asked her to dance.

"Alright Charlie," she agreed as she extended her hand and bestowed him with a pointed smile, "once around the floor and no wandering hands!"  
>Charlie chuckled, nodding affirmatively, and offering a salute as he barked, "Yes ma'am."<br>"Uh... Jo... sweetheart?" Dean arched an eyebrow, slightly uneasy as he suddenly recalled having seen Charlie outside the gymnasium that afternoon.

"Relax Dean, I promise I won't venture more than twenty feet away," Jo said, her tone scathing as she allowed Charlie to lead her to the dance floor. In their seats, both Sam and Dean visibly stiffened, their eyes never once wavering from Jo and her admirer.

Soft piano music created a haunting melody that Jo quickly found herself lost within. Charlie encircled her waist with one arm and, much to Jo's surprise, rather than simply swaying from side to side as the other couples did, Charlie began to lead her in a nimble routine across the floor. Jo matched his steps impressively, enjoying the opportunity to show off her dancing skills, most of which had been acquire during her childhood; when the older hunters who had children of their own passed through the roadhouse, they would take pity on Jo in Bill's glaring absence, and often dance her around to the old jukebox allowing her to stand on their toes as they whirled about.

"He the protective sort?" Charlie inquired, and Jo was surprised to discover that the question did not seem in the slightest like an intrusion. She directed a quick glance at Dean, who was watching her carefully, his expression unreadable.

Jo smiled, both touched by Dean's concern for her welfare and simultaneously irritated by it. She had saved his ass on more then one occasion and as far as Jo was concerned, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.  
>"You caught that, huh?" she grinned, shaking her head by way of apology for her boyfriend's territorial behaviour. "I'm sorry, he can be a little..."<br>"Nah," Charlie dismissed her apology and shot her a smile that seemed vaguely sentimental, "it's only because he loves you, which I'm sure you know already. I was the same way about my Ginny, and Lord knows that woman could kick my ass ten ways from Sunday."  
>Jo nodded, catching his gaze and detecting the faintest trace of pain behind his formerly twinkling eyes. "That your wife?" she asked hesitantly, watching as Charlie's lips twisted into a tight smile.<br>"Yes ma'am, Ginny was my wife. Blonde hair, brown eyes, and the prettiest smile in all fifty states. We were married fifty-two years before she passed away last fall. Fifty two years- can you imagine that?"  
>Jo shook her head, her expression conveying her awe at the very idea. "No, I can't. I'm... I'm sorry for your loss," she said lamely, realising that her offered words were hollow in comparison.<br>"Oh, that's alright," Charlie said softly, taking a steadying breath as his eyes misted over, "circle of life, right? We had a good run together; two beautiful children, three grandchildren, and a great-grandson on the way. I can't complain at my life, I'd do it all over again."

Despite the sadness that coloured Charlie's tone, Jo found her lips curving into a smile at his words.

"It sounds like you really loved her," Jo observed, squeezing Charlie's hand gently and then giggling as he twirled her around as though to detract away from the morbid turn in conversation.

"She was my sun, moon and stars," Charlie replied, not at all embarrassed by how corny his words could be perceived. "I bet that's what you are to that young man over there."

Jo felt a blush creeping across her cheeks and she cast a glance at Dean, finding the sharp edge of her irritation dulling slightly.

"Well, I guess I'd best be getting you back to him," Charlie said, leaning close to Jo and planting a respectful kiss on her cheek. She found herself smiling, not only flattered by the attentions of the sweet old man, but also genuinely enjoying his company.

"Thank you for the dance Charlie," said Jo, sinking back into her seat and surprisingly discovering that her spirits had lifted just a touch.

"Not so fast missy," Charlie chided, hauling Jo back to her feet with surprising strength. "I think this young man here wants to show me how it's done."

He clapped Dean on the shoulder and, much to Jo's amazement, Dean climbed to his feet without protest and offered her his hand. Jo threaded her fingers through his and together they drifted towards the dance floor, whilst Charlie lowered himself into the seat Dean had previously occupied with a groan.

The soft piano chords dominated the room, and Charlie and Sam watched as Dean and Jo moved slowly to the music, arms wrapped around each other whilst they traded smiles and tender kisses. It was clear that their previous quarrel had been forgotten.  
>"I guess all is forgiven, huh?" Charlie chuckled, voicing Sam's thoughts as he turned his gaze from the couple, "she's a pretty girl."<br>"Yeah," Sam nodded, glancing down at the papers that he and Dean had hastily covered upon seeing Charlie return to their table.  
>"That your brother?" asked Charlie as if somehow he already knew the answer to the question long before Sam gave a nod of affirmation.<p>

The two men exchanged looks and Sam found himself growing a little unnerved as a grin began to twitch at Charlie's lips. The old man rubbed his stubbly chin and then eased back in his seat, arms folded across his chest.

"I know what you are," Charlie stated confidently, raising both eyebrows to emphasize his point. Sam shook his head in a pantomime of confusion, beginning to feel a rising sense of panic as the conversation veered in an unexpected direction.  
>"I'm sorry?" Sam glanced across the dance floor toward Dean and Jo who were still caught up in the music and each other. Sam shifted in his chair and cleared his throat uneasily, frowning as the old man guffawed and rolled up his shirt sleeve.<br>"I know what you are, kid, because I spent the last sixty years of my life doing the exact same thing you and your brother do..." he tugged on his sleeve and turned his arm to exhibit a faded tattoo set against his skin wrist. It was the same anti-possession symbol that was emblazoned on both Sam and Dean's bodies.  
>"You must be the Winchester boys," Charlie said with a grin that exhibited two dark spaces in his smile where teeth were absent.<p>

"How did you..." Sam began, clearly bemused, but trailing off as Charlie let out another hearty chuckle.

"There's not a hunter on this whole continent hasn't heard of you two," Charlie said in a manner that insinuated his words were not entirely complimentary. "Is it all true?"

"Most likely," Sam replied with a sigh, shaking his head a little in order to rouse himself from his own confusion. "Look, sir..."

"Charlie Miller," the older man interrupted, thrusting a gnarled old hand under Sam's nose. Sam extended his own arm and was instantly embroiled in a handshake that almost threw him clear off his chair. Despite his frail appearance, Charlie was evidently still in the peak of physical condition, and most definitely as sharp as a tack.

"It's nice to meet you Mr. Miller," Sam began, brow furrowed and tone uncertain, "but as a fellow hunter I'm sure you'll understand that I can't help but be just a little suspicious."

Charlie nodded, his eyes twinkling as he regarded Sam with his level gaze. Resting one hand on the tabletop, Charlie motioned for Sam to draw closer. As Sam obliged, he noted that Charlie had lifted one of the butter knives from the table and was twirling it around in his hand like a baton.

"Top notch silver. Oh, and, Christo," Charlie stated pointedly, before demanding, "give me your hipflask, son."

Sam reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a hipflask filled with holy water that it was almost customary for a hunter to carry upon their person. Apparently amused, Charlie accepted the flask, unscrewed the lid, and took a swig before setting it back down on the table. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth to mop up the droplets of water he had spilled, and raised a bushy white eyebrow at Sam.

"Did I pass the test?" he inquired, scrutinising Sam who forced a responding smile.

"Now then, that young lady of your brother's..." Charlie began, frowning as he watched the couple begin to head back toward the table, hand in hand. Though Jo had almost instantly reminded Charlie of his late wife in her physicality, he also sensed they were alike in spirit and temperament, and he was pretty certain she too had to be a hunter.  
>Sam nodded without Charlie having to even ask the question and the older hunter beamed in satisfaction.<p>

"Uhm... Dean." Sam acknowledged his brother's arrival beside them at the table and gestured between the two men, "this is Charlie Miller."  
>Dean was faintly surprised by the arm that Charlie extended to him but despite this he gripped the hand offered in a firm handshake. Dean's gaze befell the tattoo that was revealed as Charlie's sleeve rode up, and his eyes widened in sudden understanding.<br>"Charlie... good to meet you," Dean's gaze flicked from Charlie to his brother and then finally Jo, whose hand remained clasped firmly in his own.  
>"I guess you already know, Jo," Dean smiled good naturedly at the old man, his previous hostilities suddenly evaporating; any man who had survived an apparent lifetime of hunting deserved his respect.<p>

At Jo's intrigued gaze Sam revealed in hushed tones, "Charlie's a hunter."

Jo's eyes widened and as her gaze swept the figure of the old man, her expression became undeniably impressed.

"Wow, I had no idea," Jo said, seating herself at the table and almost eagerly scooting her chair closer to Charlie. He appeared to be reveling in the interest from Jo in particular, and Sam got the feeling that female attention was something he had once been quite accustomed to.

"So you kids are hunting the Tangie I take it?" Charlie inquired, glancing at each one of the young hunters in turn. The three exchanged puzzled glances, which Charlie noted with a curt, somewhat disappointed nod.

"Yeah, I mean... of course..." Dean stuttered, attempting a recovery. Charlie simply shook his head and reached for a tumbler which he filled with water from a pitcher before raising it to his lips.

"Cut the bullshit, son," Charlie barked, resting the glass back onto the table and sighing as he ran his finger around the rim.  
>"Yes sir," Dean nodded, suddenly feeling immature and inexperienced as the eyes of the old hunter swept languidly over the papers on the table.<br>"Gin and I set an incantation in the floor... right next to the pool side if I recall. Any of you chuckleheads find it?" he enquired, watching as Sam and Jo simultaneously smirked at his choice of words that seemed somehow ill-fitting in a man his age.  
>"Yeah, we did," Dean stated, his tone now bordering ever so slightly on the defensive, "well, Jo did, but the thing was smashed up pretty badly."<p>

"Well I guess that explains things," Charlie grunted, rubbing at his forehead with one hand. "The incantation was a binding spell. We were on the maiden voyage when Elizabeth Rothschild was killed. Gin worked out it was a Tangie, and we bound the thing, or so we thought."

"So you thought?" Sam queried with interest. Charlie nodded, and there was something undoubtedly remorseful in his expression.

"A big fight went down, we did our part, and then all was quiet," Charlie stated in hushed tones, his eyes downcast, "then ten years later, we hear that someone else has been killed."

"What did you do?" murmured Jo, reaching forwards and covering the old man's shaking hand with her own in a gesture of comfort.

Charlie smiled kindly at Jo and patted her hand, "We contacted the cruise line, offered to help, but I'll bet you guys can guess their response. They figured we were crazy. Folks that haven't seen what we've seen are slow to believe."  
>"Until something bites them on the ass," Dean agreed, derisively.<br>"By the time they figured out there might be a problem and that we weren't out of our minds, Gin and I had just had a baby girl and, for once, we let our lives take priority over the hunt."  
>"You got kids?" Dean asked, arching an eyebrow as he appeared genuinely interested in the hunter's life.<p>

Charlie beamed, suddenly reaching into the pocket of his pants and producing a battered old leather wallet which he quickly opened. He plucked two well-worn photographs from the divider and placed them in front of Dean on the table. An undeniably attractive woman stared into the camera lens, wearing a pair of jeans and a button down blouse, and her wavy hair loose about her shoulders. She stood in the first photograph on the front porch of a house, and in the second sat back against a couch with a small baby clutched in her arms. Her smile was of the kind that was often infectious, and from the scant images alone Dean would wager that Charlie Miller's wife had been one hell of a woman and a hunter.  
>"That's my Virginia," he stated proudly, "most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on and I laid eyes on a good many girls before I met her, I can tell you."<p>

Dean let out a snort of amusement and found himself immediately growing fond of Charlie.

"What's a Tangie?" Jo interjected, ignoring Dean's show of camaraderie with the old man, who Dean resembled in so many ways.

"It's a Scottish water demon," said Charlie, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a folded piece of notepaper, which he pushed across the table towards Sam. The younger Winchester lifted the paper to eyelevel, unfolded it, and scanned it without comment.

"That should tell you all you need to know," Charlie added, "including how to banish this evil son of a bitch."

"We need to hit the books," Sam stated, musing internally upon why they still used that expression when most of their hunting research was conducted online.  
>"Agreed," Dean nodded, scanning the gathering of passengers around, "I don't think anybody here's in any immediate danger, unless they decide to go skinny-dipping after the gin rummy tournament."<br>Charlie chuckled at the derisive gaze that Dean swept across the elderly diners and nodded his head, "You think you could use another pair of hands?"

Charlie gazed down almost reverently at the photographs of his wife before slotting them back into the crevice of his wallet. He peered up at the three hunters with a telling and hopeful expression.  
>"Are you... I mean..." Sam stuttered warily. He looked to Jo for help, finding the hunter shrugging in a clueless manner back at him.<br>Dean rolled his eyes as he rose from his seat, "What 'Rainman' over here means to say is, are you sure you're not too old for this crap?"

"Son, this crap is the only thing I got left," Charlie answered, sucking in a breath that seemed to steady him a little. Dean nodded, suitably sated by the answer and also understanding it fully.

"Well, alright then," he said, eyes twinkling as he regarded Charlie with a smirk, "welcome to Team Freewill."


	9. Chapter 9

_**Authors' Note – We have a new two-part collab entitled 'Stem The Flow'. Obviously Dean/Jo pairing, but does contain spoilers for the season 6 finale.**_

_**Also, if you haven't already, check out our comedy collab 'No Brainer'. 'No Brainer' has been nominated for a GiggleSnort award, so if anyone would like to help our chances, please consider nominating it in the oneshot category. **_

_**Finally, we are part of a new Facebook community entitled FFA Fundraisers, who will soon be organising a fandom related charity auction in aid of the community of Joplin. To find out how to help or bid on any of the offered items, please visit either of our profile pages for a link. **_

_**Reviews are much appreciated.**_

_**Episode Three – Part Three**_

'_**Save Our Souls'**_

_**x-x-x**_

The two hunters strode across the deck, watching the small number of passengers they crossed paths with carefully. Both were unarmed as the information they had turned up on the Tangie, coupled with Charlie's expertise, had revealed that the creature was immune to both iron, and bullets. Since that left very little in the way of weaponry, the hunters had opted to divide into two parties and Dean found himself patrolling the decks with Charlie, discussing the man's wide and varied experience of the supernatural to pass the time.

"And then, I'm standing over this werewolf, buck naked, holding a shotgun, and the sheriff pulls up outside," Charlie guffawed, clapping Dean between the shoulder-blades as he recounted tale after tale from his active hunting days.

"No way dude!" said Dean, shaking his head and letting out a disbelieving chuckle.

"Ginny ended up outside, flirting with the guy for a half hour just so I could get cleaned up and hide the body in the closet," chuckled Charlie, his eyes twinkling, "she got the guy so worked up that by the time he got in there, he'd forgotten all about his warrant and left after a glass of lemonade and a sandwich."

"She sounded like quite a woman," Dean allowed, noting the sentimental smile that tugged at Charlie's lips.  
>"That she was," Charlie agreed, "that she was. Although, I gotta tell you, it wasn't exactly love at first sight."<br>"Oh, yeah?" Dean asked, genuinely interested in the man's stories as he realised he had found a kindred spirit in the old hunter. With no grandfather and now no father of his own, Dean found himself missing the sort of paternal discussions he and Charlie had been engaged in for the last hour.

Charlie nodded, taking a seat on the bench in front of an enormous, ornate fountain that sat in the middle of a group of bars and shops. Dean sat down beside him and folded his arms across his chest. Both hunters kept a watchful eye on the passengers ambling about the complex in search of a late night drink.  
>"First time I laid eyes on Ginny, we had a... slight altercation, and I wound up wearing a strawberry milkshake," Charlie chuckled at the memory, "but I got her number."<br>Dean laughed, arching an eyebrow in apparent awe at the story.

"Shot gun in the back and a punch in the nose," he related in turn, his thoughts drifting back to the very first time he had laid eyes on Jo, "and let me tell you, the woman has a mean left hook."

Charlie laughed heartily, shaking his head as he replied, "It's always the innocent looking ones you have to watch."

"Amen to that," agreed Dean, glancing at his wristwatch and noting that they now had under two hours before the ship would be making its emergency stop. He knew that they needed to get to the bottom of the case soon or risk having their investigation thwarted by the authorities.

"It'll show son," Charlie soothed as though reading Dean's thoughts, and the younger man nodded in silent agreement.

"Maybe Sammy and Jo are having more luck," Dean suggested. His brother and girlfriend had drawn the proverbial short straw in the stakeout and were busy investigating the gymnasium, pools, and spas; in short, the places each of the hunters thought that the Tangie was most likely to make an appearance.

"Must be nice," Charlie acknowledged, appearing thoughtful, "having your brother and your girl out on the road with you."

Dean laughed softly, considering the last few years and the many times having a loved one along for the ride had been the very opposite of a blessing. Dean knew that Sam's well-being had always been a weakness his enemies liked to exploit, and similarly that having Jo with them not only added another capable hunter, but also a second chink in his proverbial armour.  
>Dean stared at the bubbling water in the basin of the fountain and he shrugged a little uncomfortably, "You hunted with Ginny?"<p>

Charlie glanced at Dean and instantly recognised the fear he saw clouding the younger man's face, "Yep."  
>"You worry about her?" Dean questioned, his eyebrows knitting into a frown as he voiced the concerns he had been unable to discuss with either Jo or Sam.<p>

Jo would undoubtedly take exception to his worries, viewing them as a reflection on her skills as a hunter, and Dean assumed that Sam would not understand the associated fears of dating a fellow hunter. In Charlie, Dean had found someone who would not only understand them, but perhaps be able to allay or confirm them.

"Every god damned day," Charlie replied, casting a quick glance at the watch on his wrist, "but those days, turned into fifty two years."

"Did you ever wish... that she was a civilian?" Dean inquired, scrutinising Charlie as the old man shifted in his seat to address Dean.

"No. Being a hunter was as much a part of Ginny as having brown eyes and blonde hair," Charlie answered, pausing before he continued in an affectionate tone, "if I'd have taken that away from her, well, she wouldn't have been the woman I fell in love with."

The two men sat in silence for a while, watching the water and the passengers but not each other. Dean spoke again after a few hushed moments had elapsed, and his tone was reflective and carrying undertones of fear.

"Came close to losing Jo not so long ago," he revealed, turning to Charlie, who nodded calmly as though unsurprised by the news.

"You just have to get past the fear, son," Charlie replied, his tone not unkind as he added, "and you think she doesn't worry about your sorry ass just as much?"

Dean smiled in acknowledgement; given his propensity for getting himself into all manner of scrapes, he knew he was hardly dream dating material.  
>"Did you?" he asked, "...ever get past it?"<p>

Charlie held him under careful scrutiny, sensing there was more to the story than the young hunter had so far admitted. Dean sighed and ran his hand across the back of his neck, wincing as he saw Charlie's probing expression.

"You probably know what happened to our parents," Dean stated, realising that the hunting community knew all too well the tragic story behind the beginning of John Winchester's career. Charlie mumbled in confirmation, his eyes remaining trained on the rippling water as he waited for Dean to continue.  
>"I just... I guess I'm scared we're gonna wind up like my Mom and Dad," Dean's voice drifted off, and he released a heavy hearted sigh.<br>"You can't live your life like that, son," Charlie shuffled closer toward the edge of the bench as he caught an unusual flurry of movement in the water, "you've got to ask yourself what you want and... just live everyday as it comes. That's all any of us can do, that's what I tell my kids. You know what you want?"  
>Dean's eyes were trained on the basin of the fountain as he too spied the strange shadow beginning to funnel out from a vent.<p>

He cast Charlie a brief sideways glance and smiled as his thoughts turned to his girlfriend, "Yeah, I know what I want."  
>"Good, then quit your whining because I think we got company," Charlie directed, standing from the bench as Dean too scrambled to his feet.<p>

The thing that erupted from the shallow fountain water towered above the two hunters. A vaguely human form was visible, although the creature was entirely translucent, as though made from fluid itself. It stood in the basin, legs spread wide apart, with its featureless face inclined towards Charlie and Dean.

The older hunter cast a frenzied glance around the deck, checking for the presence of other passengers who may fall prey to the demon. Finding none, Charlie reached into the pocket of his dinner jacket, and pulled out a bag of salt. He readied the necessary incantation in his mind however before he could begin to utter the words, the Tangie lunged forwards.

Charlie threw himself to the deck and rolled right, clear out of the demon's path. Dean's eyes widened as he watched the old man leap nimbly out of harm's way and, in consequence, was not quite quick enough to do likewise. The Tangie flew at Dean, crashing against his body like a wave breaking against a rock. However, the fingers that snaked around Dean's throat felt most definitely solid. The skin on his neck started to burn as the water that formed the demon's hands began to heat and bubble.

He opened his mouth to gasp for air and immediately found water filling his throat. Dean spluttered helplessly and thrashed about although he could not prevent himself from being dragged into the fountain by the thing as though he were feather light. Water flooded his nostrils, ears and mouth, deafening him and preventing him from making a sound.

He was vaguely aware of Charlie attempting to pull him free as he closed his eyes against the intense heat of the water that seemed to be rising with every second.  
>Tossing a handful of rock salt at the creature, Charlie began an obviously well-practiced incantation, and struggled to wrench Dean free of its grasp. He reached the middle of the banishing ritual and heard an unearthly roar that seemed to emanate from beneath the now murky depths of the fountain. With one final tug, he managed to haul Dean over the side, watching in relief as the younger man coughed and spluttered. Dean's hands settled on his neck where an angry red mark was forming.<p>

The water in the fountain swirled in a counter clockwise direction, and the shadow swept through the bubbling liquid, disappearing as quickly as it had materialised.  
>"The pool," Dean croaked, coughing up further water as he wiped at his face with the arm of his shirt and panted.<br>"Just take it easy for a minute there," Charlie replied, grimacing as the red welts began to assume the shape of finger marks.  
>"Don't have time," Dean gasped with a shake of his head, standing up straight and hissing at the pain in his throat, "Jo and Sam are there, that thing's headed their way."<p>

Burying the bag of salt in his pocket, Charlie nodded and together the two hunters sped off towards the pool, the older man embarrassingly taking the lead.

**x-x-x**

Sam and Jo were on their second lap of the Neptune pool and gymnasium when Jo finally deemed it safe to break their silence.

"So, what's the deal with this Tangie thing then?" she inquired in hushed tones. Sam shot her a surprised glance, having been so engrossed in scouring the area that he had almost forgotten he had company. He smiled a little absently and then swung his shotgun, which was loaded with rock salt rounds, back onto his shoulder.

"Well, it's a Scottish water demon like Charlie said," Sam began, dropping his voice to a whisper that equalled Jo's, "the ship itself was commissioned by an American by the name of Arthur Aster, but it was built on the coast of Scotland. The building materials were all locally sourced, and local men were employed to construct it."

Jo mulled this over and then arched an eyebrow, "Okay, so how did this thing stow away? And who did Artie screw over to make them set it loose on his ship?"  
>Sam shrugged, suddenly glancing down toward the pool as an unnaturally large bubble rose to the surface.<br>"Well, why does this thing only attack in certain areas? We know the pools, hot tubs and fountains are connected through the water supply, but why only specific ones? I mean, why not the main pool up on deck? Plenty more passengers use those pools up there."  
>Jo sighed, her lips forming a pout as she mulled over the details of the case.<p>

"Maybe they all have something in common, something we're missing?" she proposed.  
>"Like?" Sam pressed, smiling at Jo as hoisted her shotgun further over her shoulder.<br>"You got me," she answered with a shrug before returning her gaze to the water and leaning back against the wall.

"When they remodeled the ship, certain areas were left untouched," said Sam, his eyes narrowing as his features clouded over in thought.

"Do you think that's how the tile that Charlie and his wife engraved got disturbed?" asked Jo.

She placed her hand in her pocket and her fingers found purchase on the shattered piece of tile she referred to.

"More than likely."

Sam peered down into the swimming pool and swallowed as suddenly a series of bubbles floated to the surface. The hunters exchanged glances, and Sam held out his arm in front of Jo in order to draw her away from the side. They stumbled backwards as, from the centre of the pool, a turret of water shot into the air above their heads. Jo could just about make out the vaguely human figure at the peak of the wave, but as Sam flung her to the floor her head whipped around and the creature was lost from view. All the air whooshed from Jo's lungs as she struck the hard, tiled ground with the weight of Sam upon her, and she struggled to suck in a breath for several long seconds.

Sam grimaced as he felt his weight land squarely atop Jo and he shifted quickly as she grunted. Both hunters remained low to the ground, but they scrambled to their knees and glanced wearily around the pool for signs of their attacker.

The noses of their shotguns suddenly swung in unison toward the doorway as Dean came barreling through, clearly out of breath, soaking wet and with a very visible burn mark around his neck.

Jo's eyes flicked hurriedly from the spiral of water emerging from the centre of the pool to Dean's face, and she could not help the pang of concern that assailed her.  
>"Dean, what the hell happened?" she yelled, aiming her gun at the mass of water as it spun threateningly toward the edge of the pool.<br>"The tile!" he hollered back, ignoring her concern for the time being as he skidded to their side. "Replace the incantation; it'll trap it in the pool!"

Jo tossed him her gun and she darted behind the pool out toward the changing rooms, careful to maintain her footing on the slick floor.  
>"Dude, what happened?" Sam asked askance, taking in Dean's disheveled appearance.<br>"Don't ask Sammy, just... don't ask," he shook his head irritably, holding the shotgun up against his shoulder.  
>"Where's Charlie?" Sam demanded, suddenly noting the older man's absence.<p>

"He's..." Dean trailed off and his eyes grew as wide as saucers as all of the water in the pool seemed to swirl into the centre before being swept up into the air so high that it almost touched the domed glass ceiling. The brothers closed their eyes as the water crashed down upon their heads, soaking them through and then proceeding to sweep them into the pool.

Dean watched in horror as Sam's shotgun was knocked from his hand by the force of the attack, and skittered across the tiles out of reach. Despite the fact that his body was being slammed repeatedly against the poolside by the Tangie, Dean raised Jo's shotgun to his shoulder and fired off three consecutive rounds into the barely discernable shape of its head.

The water retreated a little, allowing Dean to scramble back up the poolside, however, Sam bobbed on the surface before disappearing from view.

"Come on Jo!" Dean shouted, panic beginning to claw its way to the surface of his composure. Dean let off several more rounds, careful to angle his line of fire away from Sam, whom he could see thrashing and kicking just below the surface of the water. Dean knew that his brother would only be able to hold his breath for a matter of time and so, tossing the gun aside, he drew in a gulp of air and leaped into the pool.

Dean forced his own eyes open, ignoring the stinging sensation of the now heating water against his skin and eyeballs. He fought against the Tangie and lunged towards Sam, who was beginning to turn blue through lack of oxygen. Diving low under the water, Dean positioned himself beneath Sam's legs before pushing his brother upwards with a surge of energy. Sam's head broke the surface of the water as his body rested on Dean's shoulders, and the younger Winchester wasted no time in filling his lungs. Enraged, the Tangie pushed it's torso out of the water and, before Sam had time to react, it's hands shot out and ensnared him. Sam began to kick out and struggle without thinking, his foot connecting with Dean's jaw with so much force that he lost consciousness immediately.

Sam felt his brother's grip on his ankles slacken and too late realised his own mistake as Dean's body sank to the floor of the swimming pool.

Jo came tearing out of the changing rooms, the tile now relayed and the inscription furiously scrawled over it once again with waterproof marker. Her eyes widened in horror as she stared into the water, and she visibly jumped as the doors were thrown open once again. Charlie strode in, carrying a huge bag of rock salt in his hands which he began liberally tossing into the pool. He shouted above the tumultuous roar of the water, the vanquishing incantation pouring from his lips. Jo ran to the edge of the pool side and seized her shotgun from where it had been discarded by Dean.

"Hey!" she yelled, firing off two salt rounds into the creature, which reared up and emitted a blood curdling shriek. It advanced toward her, slowly assuming a more human form as it released its hold on Sam and headed toward its newly selected victim.

Sam surfaced immediately, taking a few shallow breaths before he dove back down to the bottom of the pool. He searched for Dean frantically, knowing that he had a matter of mere minutes to get his brother to safety. When he finally spotted Dean, lying on the marble that formed the pool floor, Sam kicked harder than he ever had before in order to reach him. The weight of his waterlogged clothing hampered him somewhat but Sam struggled on regardless, his lungs burning as they were denied oxygen.

Jo stumbled backwards, her attention on Sam as he swam to the edge of the pool in order to haul Dean up against the side. Dean was slowly beginning to awaken, and his eyelids fluttered as he struggled to rouse himself, perhaps recalling the imminent danger that surrounded them.

The Tangie advanced upon Jo and she ducked her head as hands reached out to accost her. She succeeded in fending the demon off with another well placed round to the centre of the creature's head, and Jo back-pedalled several more paces. The Tangie, however, kept on coming, moving after her with a purpose that was evident in its menacing stride.

"Hurry up guys!" she called out as she hazarded a glance behind her and realised that the demon was fast backing her into the corner of the room, where she would have little hope of escape.

Charlie continued his fevered chanting, shooting a glance at Sam as he left Dean's side and began to help the older man in tossing salt into the water.

"Will this be enough?" Sam yelled over the screeching of the Tangie as Jo fired more rounds into it's torso, only succeeding in enraging it more.

"I turned off the pool filtration system," Charlie hollered back, pausing in order to daub a symbol in the air with the tip of his index finger. The Tangie wheeled around to face the old hunter, whether understanding his words or simply beginning to feel the effects of the spell, Sam had no idea.

"Give it a minute or two and the water will be filled with salt," called Charlie, watching with relief as the Tangie abandoned its pursuit of Jo in favour of turning it's wrath upon him.

Dean lay uselessly on the tiles at the side of the pool, his eyes half open as he wretched and gagged on the water he had swallowed.

Jo bolted to his side as the demon's attention wavered from her, and she slung her shotgun over her shoulder before she dropped down to her knees.  
>"I'm okay," he reassured her, finding an undeniable fear in her eyes as her fingers traced the red mark on his throat. Jo nodded, running her hand across his cheek and through his soaking wet hair. He coughed as his lungs expelled further fluid and Jo grimaced her concern.<p>

"Jo," he panted, widening his eyes to emphasize his words, "I'm okay, you watch yourself out there." His eyes darted furtively over to where Sam stood beside Charlie; the older man chanted whilst Sam continued to hold the creature at bay with his shotgun.  
>Jo's gaze flicked between Dean and the other hunters, and she climbed to her feet once again, smiling at her boyfriend. Dean watched her run across the pool side to join his brother, struggling to clamber to his own feet and failing as dizziness prevented him.<br>"Jo... you think you can keep this thing busy for a while?" Charlie asked, watching as she arrived at their side and set about reloading her gun.

"On it," Jo replied, her jaw set in determination as she swung the butt of her rifle around and slashed at the Tangie with it. The demon turned to regard her with its head cocked as though it were puzzling out her attempts at bravery.

"Any time guys..." said Jo warily, spinning away from the Tangie as it attempted to encircle her with its arms. Jo reached into her pocket and produced a pouch of rock salt that she had armed herself with prior to the stakeout. She tore at the strings of the pouch and then flung it into the swirling centre of the creature's body, grinning as it squealed in protest and began to claw at its middle.

Charlie's frantic chanting finally tailed off and he shot a significant glance at Sam, who immediately tossed the rest of the salt into the water.

"Come on kid," Charlie directed, grabbing Sam's arm and leading him down the pool edge toward the changing room doorway. Charlie knelt on the ground and clicked his fingers impatiently at the young hunter, "Come on Winchester, give me your damn hand."  
>Sam frowned, filled with distinct unease as he gingerly extended his hand toward Charlie and watched in horror as the old man produced a knife from his pocket.<br>"Son of a bitch!" Sam yelled, attempting to retract his arm as Charlie deftly cut down the centre of his palm, forcing his wrist above the tile.  
>"The incantation has to be set in blood," Charlie explained with an exasperated sigh and the faintest traces of a smirk flashing across his features.<br>"A little warning next time, maybe?" Sam snapped, cradling his hand to his chest as Charlie released his hold on him and they watched thin rivulets of blood trickle across the tile's surface then seep across the inscription.  
>"Go help your brother and his girl," Charlie retorted, wiping the blade of his knife on the leg of his pants and casting a pointed glance to where Jo stood beside the pool, Dean having joined her in fending off the weakening demon.<p>

Rolling his eyes somewhat petulantly, Sam ran to his brother's side. Dean, however, was using the butt of Jo's shotgun to pummel the demon, finding that Charlie's ritual seemed to have given the thing a more consistently solid form. The weapon no longer passed through the creature's body as though moving through actual water, but instead connected with it. The Tangie yelped and growled inhumanly, but Dean persisted in his attack.

"Drive it back into the pool!" Charlie yelled out, his eyes widening, but a grin lighting up his wrinkled face as he realised that the banishing spell was beginning to take effect. Nodding and flashing the old hunter a brilliant smile, Jo dropped down to the ground and swept her leg out across the floor, catching the Tangie's ankles with the move.

The demon tottered and then flew backwards into the water with a resounding splash, which sent up a wave that promptly crashed against the marble side of the pool. The centre of the swimming pool began to swirl as though a great whirlpool existed beneath the surface. The water glowed an eerie green colour, and suddenly snarls and howls dominated the air as the Tangie's body was swept round and round by the unknown force.

"What's going on?" Dean yelled over the roar of the rushing water and the cries of the demon. Charlie shot him a triumphant look and winked.

"The bastard is on its way back to hell," he replied, patting Sam on the back as he held his wounded hand to his chest and watched the Tangie explode into a rush of water that in the next moment was sucked out by the drainage system. A hush fell over the Neptune pool, and the four hunters regarded each other in silence, almost holding their breath collectively as they waited to make sure that the demon was indeed dispatched.

Dean shot a double take at Charlie as the old man walked over to join them, grimacing and flexing his left arm.  
>"You alright, Charlie?" Dean asked as Jo and Sam watched closely. Discomfort was evident upon Charlie's face, and Dean took a step towards the old man with one hand extended in an offer of aid.<br>"Just need to catch my breath a minute, I'm not as young as I used to be," Charlie said with a nod, taking a deep breath as he pressed his palm against his chest where a sudden and urgent pain began to stab at his heart.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he huffed as he shooed them away from him, flapping his other hand to signal his irritation at the three younger hunters crowding around him. Suddenly, Charlie sank to the floor, his eyelids fluttering, and he began to wheeze as he clawed at his chest.

"Charlie?" Jo's eyes widened in alarm and she tossed her gun to Dean as she knelt at Charlie's side and ripped at the buttons of his collar.

The old man doubled over, his face paling against the pain. His teeth clenched and he cried out as the crushing sensation bearing down upon his chest overcame him.  
>"Hold on Charlie, just hold on." Dean scrambled for the emergency phone next to the doorway, cursing aloud as he found it disconnected. "I'm gonna get help."<p>

The double doors to the pool were left flapping as he sped out along the hallway in search of a medic. Jo gripped Charlie's hand, powerless to help him as his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped against the wall. Sam knelt at his side, quickly laying Charlie down as he checked his pulse and held his fingertips beneath the man's nose.  
>"He's not breathing," Sam stated gravely, blinking in surprise as Jo pushed him aside.<p>

"Okay, so... so CPR, right?" she stammered, struggling to recall the classes she had taken in high school. Jo reached out with a shaking hand and tilted the old man's head back, lacing her fingers together as she began pressing down with vigour against the centre of his chest, repeating the gesture over and over as she counted under her breath.

Sam stared, feeling as though his limbs had frozen in place and he could do little else but watch as Jo pounded against the hunter's chest in desperation. He noted how her hands trembled and she looked dangerously close to the brink of tears. However, she continued to work over Charlie, muttering quiet prayers under her breath as she did so.

Dean reappeared moments later with a crew member hot on his heels, who was carrying a green medical bag and a piece of equipment that Sam did not recognise. They dropped down next to Charlie and the medic wasted no time in ushering Jo out of the way so that he could work over the old man, whose lips were turning an alarming blue colour.

Jo stood up and stepped backwards, gnawing on her lip as she willed Charlie to splutter and take a breath. When nothing happened, she wrapped her arms around herself and sniffled as tears began to descend her cheeks.

A pair of familiar arms enclosed her and Jo turned to bury her face in Dean's chest as he rubbed her back soothingly. She cast an unwilling glance back over toward Charlie's motionless body and watched as two further nurses rushed into the room, one carrying a stretcher and the other similarly laden down with equipment. They set about working on their patient, whilst Sam and Dean looked on.

It eventually became apparent that it was too late. Charlie was dead.

**x-x-x**

They had ordered room service, which they were assured by Jack Collins was 'on the house', a show of the cruise lines' gratitude that the hunters had finally managed to remove their 'unwanted stowaway' as he had jokingly phrased it.

The three large pizzas laden with every topping imaginable remained untouched, however, as Dean, Sam and Jo sat about in silence. Every so often, one of the hunters would raise a beer bottle to their lips, sigh, and then refrain from taking a drink before lowering it back down again. This gesture was repeated countless times, and the seconds ticked by miserably.

"Ok," Dean finally declared, sitting bolt upright and startling both Sam and Jo, who appeared to have been engrossed in thought. "This ends now. Charlie wouldn't have wanted us sitting round and moping. He was a hunter, and he went out like one. He'd want us to celebrate his life."

Jo stared glumly at Dean as though he had lost his mind, whilst Sam simply nodded and continued to peer into the neck of his beer bottle. Dean let out an irritated sigh and raised his own bottle aloft, signaling for both Sam and Jo to join him.

"To Charlie, one heck of a guy, and the most experienced hunter any of us have ever had the pleasure to meet," Dean said, arching a pointed eyebrow at Sam in order to prompt him into action. Slowly, he raised his own bottle and Dean nodded in approval.

"To Charlie," Sam reiterated, the ghost of a smile playing across his lips.

Jo nodded, forcing a brief smile as she too raised her bottle and then took a small sip in a toast to their friend.

Dean sat down next to Jo on the couch and looped his arm around her as he tried to find an even remotely positive spin on events. "He went out like he'd have wanted," he stated, with a degree of certainty that surprised both Sam and Jo, "you think he'd have liked to shrivel up and... and waste away in a retirement home? No, he went out like a hero, like he deserved."  
>Sam grunted in agreement whilst Jo appeared lost in thought. She allowed her head to fall back against the upholstery behind her, lulled into a daydream by the sensation of Dean's finger's drifting up and down her arm.<p>

Sam picked up an old, worn, leather bound diary from the nightstand beside the bed, and he shook his head in awe at its contents. Having read though Charlie and Ginny's notes on the Tangie, he had become enthralled by the stories of their hunts, even recognising a name or two from his father's own list of contacts.

"Some of the things Charlie and his wife came up against, I didn't even know existed," Sam remarked, smiling as he flicked through the pages and then placed Charlie's hunting journal  
>back onto the table in an almost reverent fashion.<br>"You tell our friend Jack about the marble?" Dean asked, eyebrow arched as he imagined the director's response at being told that the marble inlay in the Neptune pool and several fountains had been the means by which the demon had first arrived on the ship.  
>Sam's lips twisted into a grin as he recalled their conversation and the hyperventilating that had occurred as a result, "Yeah, although I'm not sure they're real keen on ripping out hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of solid marble."<br>Dean shrugged and placed his beer bottle on the end table beside him, gently cajoling Jo as he grinned, "Well then, I guess we may be taking another little vacation in a decade or two. Make it an anniversary cruise, huh sweetheart?"

Jo returned the smile, but there was something in her expression that was undeniably sorrowful. Dean watched as she stood and then made her way to the sliding door, before slipping out onto the balcony.

Sam shot Dean a questioning glance, to which he shook his head, climbing to his feet and following after Jo. He found her leaning over the balcony, and staring out across the ocean with a dreamy, faraway look present in her eyes.

"You ok?" Dean queried, resting his elbows on the balcony next to Jo and squinting against the sunlight. Jo glanced across at Dean and shot him a wan smile.

"Yeah, it just kind of feels like we lost this one," she said, shrugging dismissively and turning to rest her head against Dean's bicep. He nodded his understanding and placed a kiss on the crown of her head, extracting a more genuine smile from her this time.

"I guess it was just the dude's time," Dean said softly, wrapping his arm around Jo's waist and drawing her into his side.

Jo sighed, closing her eyes as Dean's lips brushed first her temple, and then sought out her lips in an affectionate kiss. Her eyelids fluttered open yet the smile he had anticipated on her face was rapidly forming into a troubled frown.

Reaching out toward his neck, Jo swept her fingertips over the red mark across his throat, her expression clearly clouded with concern.  
>Dean captured her hand in his own and he bent his head to deflect her gaze from the injury. "Jo... Jo look at me, I'm okay," he stated firmly, his hand resting against her cheek.<br>"This time," she agreed, avoiding his gaze as he manoeuvred her awkwardly into his arms.

"We got nothing to worry about," Dean assured Jo, his tone resounding with a kind of confidence that she had never heard from him before when discussing the future. Usually, he regarded it with trepidation, refusing to make long term plans or the like when he hardly dared believe that he would live through the next week, let alone year. Jo could scarcely blame him for such reasoning, since the majority of the people he cared for had met an untimely end, and he had died once already himself.

"You sound sure," Jo observed, tilting her head back in order to regard Dean, who greeted her with a dazzling smile. It almost appeared as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders somehow, and Jo waited for him to clarify just what exactly had prompted such happiness.

"I finally am," he replied, shrugging as he added, "if Charlie and his wife could make it work for so long, and never get out of the business, then why can't we? We're not our parents Jo, and I guess I'm finally beginning to see that."

"I just can't help but think about it sometimes, you know?" Jo shrugged, looping her arms around his waist as he pulled her against him and brushed a windswept tendril of hair behind her ear.  
>"Yeah, me too sweetheart," he murmured, arching an eyebrow as he added, "but, then a wise man told me I can't live my life thinking about what could happen, that I needed to think about what I want, not what I'm afraid of."<br>Jo narrowed her eyes and regarded him with suspicion, but allowed him to continue on nonetheless.  
>"And... I want this," he stated simply, pulling Jo against him, "you and me. For the first time in my life Jo, I want it all- a home, kids, the whole deal... and I want that with you. So if we get five years or fifty years together, I don't care, I just want to spend them with you."<p>

Jo smiled and a blush bathed her cheeks as she found herself unaccustomed to such emotional declarations. Whilst an 'I love you' was often exchanged between the couple, their banter tended more toward the teasing and sarcastic rather than the overtly sentimental.  
>"Who was this wise man and what did he do with Dean Winchester?" she retorted, watching as he rolled his eyes at her characteristically sardonic reply.<p>

"There's only one Dean Winchester baby," Dean quipped, winking at Jo and lowering his lips to scatter kisses across her neck. Jo rolled her eyes but draped her arms across Dean's shoulders, allowing him to continue trailing his lips across her skin. She shuddered as he nibbled on her ear lobe, and tilted her head further backwards, enjoying his attentions.

When a flurry of movement caught her eye from the deck below, Jo reluctantly broke apart from the clinch, placing her palm on Dean's chest in order to prevent him from drawing her back into his arms. Jo signaled to the lower deck, her mouth falling open just a little and her eyes widening at what she saw.

A petite, blonde haired woman circled the deck holding tight to a tall and muscularly built young man. The couple seemed almost to belong in each others arms, their bodies fitting together like corresponding pieces of a puzzle. She wore a crimson dress tied with a bow around the middle that flared out just above her knees, whilst he cut a dashing figure in a black suit that complimented the way in which his dark hair had been neatly slicked back. Jo found herself holding in a breath as she watched the couple waltzing to phantom music, their bodies seemingly surrounded by a brilliant yellow light brighter than the morning's sunshine.

Jo craned her neck, trying to get a better look at the couple, whilst simultaneously attempting to ignore her boyfriend's amorous intent. Dean remained oblivious to the distraction, finding himself occupied with pressing warm, wet kisses along Jo's neck as his hands drifted down her back and curved around her rear. She hissed in a combination of surprise and pleasure as he lifted her off her feet, and grazed his teeth against her pulse point

"Dean," she tried to get his attention, but found that his name left her lips in little more than a breathy moan. Punching him lightly on the arm, she managed to find her voice, "Dean!"  
>"What? Kind of busy here," he replied, frowning as he followed the direction in which Jo pointed.<br>"Look," she murmured, staring in awe at the apparitions. Jo glanced up at Dean as he settled her back on her feet, keeping her in his arms, but with his gaze now also focused on the deck.

"Is that...?" Dean breathed, the question dying on his lips as suddenly the figures broke apart and settled into a pose side by side. The man snaked an arm around the woman's narrow waist and squeezed playfully, extracting a melodic giggle from her that carried on the breeze to their ears. Dean blinked, resisting the urge to rub his eyes.

There was something familiar about the man, who carried himself with an undeniably arrogant and self assured air that was somehow also endearing. It was only when the couple turned the gazes collectively upon Dean and Jo standing on the balcony that realisation set in. Dean recognised the woman immediately; the almost Hollywood-esque smile, the heart-shaped face fanned by blonde ringlets, and the determined gleam that was apparent in her brown eyes.

"Well I'll be..." murmured Dean, a warm smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as young Charlie Miller raised one hand in greeting. Still mesmerized by the ghostly couple, Dean raised one hand to his forehead and offered a salute, just as his father had taught him when he was a boy.

For several seconds, Dean and Charlie regarded each other, and a perfect understanding passed between the two hunters. Then, with a grin and a wink, Charlie and Virginia Miller vanished.

**The End of Episode Three**

**(Next Episode – Good Enough)**


	10. Chapter 10

_**Authors' Note – Thank you to everyone who has read and/ or reviewed so far. **_

_**According to the Supernatural wiki, Jo Harvelle's birthday is 7th**__** April 1983. However, we are altering this date. Just because we can. And want to. **_

_**Please see our profile pages for further information on Junkin' For Joplin, a fandom charity auction that will take place on 1**__**st**__** July 2011. All moneys raised will go direct to the US Salvation Army, to aid all works being carried out in Joplin, MO. Some items up for sale include a Castiel cake topper, fanfic banners of your choice, a Harry Potter cookbook, and much, much more. **_

_**WARNING – This episode contains references to domestic violence. **_

_**Episode Four – Part One**_

'_**Good Enough'**_

**x-x-x**

_**Harvelle's New Roadhouse, Nebraska**_

_**June 1**__**st**__** 2011**_

The night air was unbearably balmy. Amongst the tangle of discarded sheets, Jo Harvelle and Dean Winchester lay side by side, staring up at their bedroom ceiling and both wishing that they had long ago succumbed to blissful sleep. For the last several nights however, slumber had proven elusive given the temperatures that had risen in the surrounding area. Instead, the three occupants of the Roadhouse had lain awake in their respective beds for the better part of the night, leaving them exhausted and irritable when morning came.

They were operating on little sleep and frayed tempers, which they often found themselves taking out on their patrons when happy hour descended. Surprisingly, Sam was the worst offender, storming around the bar slamming doors and grunting to anyone who attempted to engage him in conversation. This was until Jo's own annoyance had peaked and she had banished him to the back room indefinitely.

Putting his uncharacteristic mood swings down to the heat wave and, having grudgingly admitted to a series of nightmares, Sam had headed up to his room for an early night. Jo and Dean had not been quite so fortunate, and had eventually called it a night only after their final customer had departed.

Sighing in exasperation, Jo rolled over to face the centre of the bed, propping her cheek under her palm as she found Dean staring back at her through the darkness.

"This sucks," she huffed, sighing as Dean reached out and brushed her hair back from her dampened cheek, "it's hotter than Hell in here."

Dean shrugged as he appeared to consider her statement and he smiled wryly as he replied, "Pretty damn close."

"Sorry," she winced, quickly realising the inappropriate nature of her comment. Dean chuckled and slid closer to her, running his hand over her side and pressing a kiss to her slightly sweaty forehead.

"So... about your birthday," Dean continued, deciding that since sleep was not a viable option he may as well explore plans for celebrating Jo's upcoming birthday.

Jo, however, appeared to have other ideas and had met all conversations about her birthday with a frown, and dismissive toss of her head for the past several weeks. Now that the eve of the actual event was upon them, Dean was determined to make some headway on the matter.

"I told you and Sam already, I don't want to do anything for my birthday this year," Jo answered flatly, shifting in bed and rolling over to face Dean, who swept her face with his intense gaze.

"We heard," Dean said, a grin breaking out across his lips, "but it's not every day a girl turns twenty-five."

Jo sighed and shook her head, hoping to put an end to the conversation and the insistent tone that Dean was adopting.

"Aw come on, Jo," pleaded Dean, his eyes imploring now as he peered at Jo from behind his thick, dark lashes. "Give me one good reason why. Just one, and then I'll shut my pie hole about the whole birthday thing."

"It's my first birthday without Mom." Jo's voice was small and pained, and Dean immediately felt a lump rise in his own throat. Of course, he had considered that this could perhaps be Jo's reason for not wishing to celebrate this year, but he had thought that she had come a long way in her grief over recent months, and perhaps had some other hang-up about the impending event.

"Jo..." Dean began, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand and offering his girlfriend a sad smile. Jo glanced at him sharply and shook her head.

"You said you'd drop it Dean," she chastised, closing her eyes and making a pantomime of nestling against the mattress as though sleep was imminent.

He sighed in defeat and nodded, staring for a moment at the back of her head as she lay curled on her side in a position that effectively ended their discussion.

"Okay," he said softly, shuffling across the mattress and nestling behind her. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder in repentance, "I won't mention it again."

Jo stilled as he draped his arm over her hip, drawing her closer, and she rolled over in response to meet his gaze.

"I guess I'm just not in the mood for celebrating this year," she whispered, pressing her palm to his cheek and smiling weakly.

"Next year," he vowed, kissing the centre of her palm, "and we're doing balloons, cake, those little paper streamer things... the whole nine yards."

Jo laughed and patted his hand in acknowledgement, allowing his arm to remain draped over her hips despite the heat. The gentle breeze from the room fan blew across her legs and she sighed at the sensation of the cool air against her skin, however ineffectual it actually was against the climbing temperature.

"Get some sleep, okay?" Dean directed, smiling as he received a tired murmur.

Closing his eyes, Dean proceeded to brush his fingertips across Jo's sticky skin, and drifted into a dreamless slumber.

**x-x-x**

The sunshine was brilliant and blinding, and Sam shielded his eyes from its errant rays as he focussed his gaze upon the blonde before him. A smile twitched at the corners of his lips, and he watched as she heaped salad and sandwiches onto plastic plates before pushing one towards Sam then sitting back on her heels.

Sam beamed in thanks and accepted the plate, his gaze befalling the strawberry cheesecake on the picnic rug between them. He licked his lips in longing and reached forwards to pluck the largest strawberry from the centre of the whipped cream. She slapped at his hand, half playful but with a genuinely scolding expression set upon her features.

"Not yet," Jessica insisted, offering Sam a smile before leaning forwards and brushing his lips with a kiss. Sam gravitated towards her body, eager and unwilling for the kiss to end. As he moved to thread his fingers through Jessica's hair, she abruptly pulled away from him and settled back against the rug, her plate once again in her lap.

"Eat," she said encouragingly, "you've lost weight. Don't they feed you anymore?"

She followed up the question with a good-natured giggle and Sam smiled, knowing too well that no real malice was meant by the quip.

Jessica nodded down toward his plate, yet Sam found it impossible to tear his gaze from her face. She blushed under the scrutiny and ran her hand through her hair, diverting her eyes to a nearby grove of trees that swayed in the warm breeze.

"I missed you," he suddenly stated, his tone sincere, and tinged with a resounding sadness.

She smiled in response and reached out to place her hand over his. "I know," she acknowledged, shooting him a gentle smile, "I missed you too."

Sam stared down at his plate, his appetite fading rapidly, "This is a dream, isn't it?"

Jessica shrugged derisively, plucking a strawberry from the top of the cheesecake and holding it out toward him. He shook his head and watched as she arched an eyebrow and popped it into her own mouth. She finished the strawberry and licked her rosy lips before inquiring, "Is it?"

Sam emitted a sigh, feeling like the weight of the world was upon his shoulders. Jess picked up a sandwich and took a bite, her nose crinkling on the bridge as it always had done when she was enjoying something.

"I wish you didn't always have to go," Sam said quietly, "I wish when I woke up, you were the first thing I saw. I wish we could be like Dean and Jo."

"That's a lot of wishes," Jess joked, her ready smile faltering as she reached out to stroke Sam's forehead. He leaned into her touch, a breath escaping his lips as he savoured the very real sensation of her smooth flesh against his own.

"You should be happy for Dean," she continued, pushing her plate aside and patting her knees. Sam grinned and lay down with his head in her lap, gazing off into the distance as Jess combed her fingers through his hair. She commented almost absently, "Your hair's longer. I like it."

"I am happy for Dean," Sam insisted, meaning every word of his statement, "he deserves every minute of what they have after everything he's been through."

"The green eyed monster's not that easily silenced though," said Jess with a sympathetic smile, adding with a chuckle, "and you're the guy who should know."

Sam's lips parted in faint surprise as he asked, "You think I'm jealous of Dean?"

Jess simply continued to brush tendrils of caramel hair from Sam's eyes, the pink polish on her nails gleaming in the sunshine.

"Aren't you?"

Sam shook his head, unwilling to voice his true feelings, and he faltered as he replied in earnest. "I like Jo. And I know she makes Dean happy," he stated, "like I've never seen him this happy before. But, I guess sometimes it's kind of lonely. They've got each other, they share things... like you and I used to do. And, I miss that."

Jess nodded, as if having almost anticipated his response. She smiled as she continued to sweep her fingers through his hair, his eyelids fluttering closed at her ministrations, "You always said Dean was never the 'settling down' type."

Sam opened his eyes and regarded her curiously, "Dean's changed, Jess. And it's different with Jo." He sighed as he realised she had perhaps misinterpreted his loneliness for jealousy. Whilst it was true that he often wished he too had someone in his life, he never for one moment resented his brother's relationship. "I want Dean to be happy, he's given up so much for me. Jo's good for him and... he loves her. " He sat up on his elbows and frowned as she shrugged in an act of ignorance, smiling at his expression.

"I was just saying is all," she quickly back-peddled, "and you're right, I don't know Dean and... I don't know Jo. Kind of wish I did, I mean... the woman who tamed the infamous Dean Winchester? That's pretty impressive." She giggled and Sam felt more at ease, reminded once again of the Jessica he had known all those years ago.

She glanced behind her sharply and then shot Sam an apologetic smile as she climbed to her feet and gestured around her, signalling that their time together was at an end.

"Time's up," she stated, sliding her hand down his palm and smiling at him, "I gotta go."

Sam stared after her helplessly, grief settling upon his chest as he watched his fiancé walk away with a backward glance that betrayed her own sorrow.

"Wait!" Sam called out, scrambling across the blanket and turning over plates still laden with food. "Wait, Jess!"

It was with her name dying on his lips that Sam Winchester finally awoke to the sweltering darkness of his bedroom at the Roadhouse. Sitting bolt upright, rivulets of sweat coursing down his chest, Sam shot a glance at the digital alarm clock, noting that it was little after three in the morning. With a sigh, Sam sagged against his pillows, ran one hand through his damp hair, and settled in for another long, sleepless night.

**x-x-x**

**Belfast, Maine**

**June 2****nd**** 2011, 3:15 am**

The sound of the front door closing sent a shiver of fear down Helen Dawson's spine and, with each creak of the staircase, the heavy footfalls inched ever closer to the bedroom. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she planted her feet hesitantly on the floor and began to inch toward the door. Casting a glance at the sleeping child in the bed behind her, Helen swallowed back her fear and placed her hands onto the dresser that stood in front of the door. She had assumed her husband would not been returning home that night but had placed the dresser as a precaution, uncertain as to the mood she would find him in after his most recent drinking binge.

She winced as she heard him yell her name and he slammed the bathroom door in his search, his fists pounding the walls as he headed toward the guest bedroom at the end of the hall.

"Helen, where the hell are you?" Scott Dawson hollered, slurring his words as a consequence of the numerous bottles of beer and vodka shots that he had consumed that night. Helen shuddered and made her way back to bed, gathering the toddler in her arms and nestling underneath the duvet. She hoped that Scott would soon become distracted from his hunt either by the television or the six-pack that was awaiting him in the fridge.

Helen closed her eyes and attempted to block out the sounds of the frantic search. She forced her mind to drift back to a time when Scott had been almost a different person; when his voice had been soft, his touch tender, and he had looked at his wife with nothing but adoration in his eyes. His temper had soured not long after the wedding, right around the time that the drinking had begun. Suddenly every little thing that Helen said or did was wrong in some way, and with each blunder she made Scott's reactions grew more threatening and violent. Within months, Helen was reduced to little more than a terrified prisoner in her own home, but one that harboured a strong if not misguided desire to make the marriage work. The first time that Scott had hit her, Helen had convinced herself that the blame lay on her shoulders; she had, after all, made a banking error that had incurred a fifty dollar charge to their account. After that, it only became easier to find new ways in which to fault herself for her husband's rotten temper, and willingness to lash out.

She started suddenly as his fists slammed relentlessly against the bedroom door, a long list of expletives spewing from his lips in a breathless slur.

"It's okay baby, it's okay," she whispered, cradling the stirring child as he began to awaken and clutched at her nightgown. Crawling from the bed, Helen advanced toward the corner of the bedroom, her eyes never once leaving the shaking door as she walked backwards toward the wall, her son gripped in her arms.

"Open the god damn door!" Scott demanded, the wooden frame jarring as he punched and kicked at it. The hand rattled furiously and Robbie began to shriek in her arms.

Helen whimpered as he struck the door once again, eliciting a terrified yelp from the woman as she envisioned what would happen once he had broken down her barricade. Grabbing the phone from the nightstand, she stabbed at the numbers as she dialled 911 and held the phone to her ear, silently urging the operator to answer her call.

Abruptly, the hammering on the door ceased, and the hallway fell silent. Helen grasped the receiver tighter, awaiting the din that she felt sure would strike up once again just as soon as she lowered her guard. Robbie also suddenly quieted, his head cocked to one side as he stared at the door, clearly puzzled.

"911, what's your emergency?" a female voice intoned from the other end of line. Helen opened her mouth to speak, and was silenced by a sound that chilled her to the core; Scott Dawson let out a scream that shook the windows in their frames, and stilled Helen's heart in her chest.

"Sorry..." Helen stammered, allowing the phone to fall from her fingers as she scrambled towards the closet and deposited Robbie inside. She offered the toddler a shaky smile, attempting to block out the sounds of screeching still emanating from her husband, and ruffled his hair before closing the door behind her.

As Helen wheeled around to face the door, the sound of Scott's shrieks died down, replaced instead by a bizarre gurgling noise that she could not place. Barely breathing, Helen tiptoed to the doorway, disregarding the repetitive calls of the phone operator who had now been forgotten.

"Scott?" Helen called out, her voice trembling. Receiving no answer, Helen leaned her shoulder against the dresser unit, and heaved it clear out of the path of the door. She paused when her task was complete, waiting for Scott to burst into the bedroom. When no such event occurred, Helen reached out and wrenched the handle, throwing the door open in one fluid motion.

Helen Dawson did not scream as she took in the sight of her husband's body, lying prostrate on the carpet with his shirt ripped wide open to reveal a searing stab wound upon his chest. Not a single drop of blood oozed from the wound and this was the last thought on Helen's mind before she sank into shocked unconsciousness.

**x-x-x**

Dean watched with delight as the perfectly golden pancake somersaulted in the air and landed with a gentle thud on the bottom of the skillet. Poking around the edges with a spatula, he lifted the pancake and placed it atop a stack he had already prepared.

"Wow," Sam exclaimed, strolling into the kitchen and widening his eyes as he took in the mess that now littered the countertops. Emptied cartons of milk and broken eggshells were piled high along with bags of chocolate chips and banana skins.

"Morning sunshine," Dean grinned, turning and regarding his brother with a flourish as he threw the dish towel over his shoulder and placed the tower of pancakes onto a tray, along with a jug of syrup and various fresh fruits.

"Hungry this morning, Dean?" Sam smiled in bewilderment, frowning as he watched his sibling add a small vase containing a bunch of wild flowers.

"It's Jo's birthday," Dean reminded him, wiping his hands on the towel over his shoulder, before adding a large mug of coffee to the tray, "I'm making her breakfast in bed. You think the flowers are too much?"

Sam shrugged and gestured toward the tray, "No, no. It's nice."

He smiled in amusement at Dean's brush with domesticity and sat down at the kitchen table. Dean gestured toward another plate of fruit and pancakes that Sam pulled towards himself gratefully.

"You figure out what to get her yet?" Sam enquired, spearing a strawberry with his fork and frowning momentarily as the action evoked memories of the previous night's dream. He brushed the unwelcome thoughts aside and jammed his fork into his mouth although his appetite had suddenly waned.

Dean frowned and paused in the kitchen doorway, balancing the tray precariously as he turned to face Sam. "She says she doesn't want anything."

"Isn't that what everybody says when really they mean 'get me something nice or I'll be pissed' ?" Sam asked, cocking his head to one side as he regarded Dean.

"First birthday without Ellen," Dean explained, his tone tinged with sadness. Sam nodded and seized a knife in order to cut into his mound of rapidly cooling pancakes.

"Must be tough," Sam agreed, contemplating how his first birthday following Jess' death had been passed in a drunken blur. "But you should still get her something."

"That's what I was thinking." Dean blew out a puff of air through ballooned cheeks as he added, "But I got nothin', Sammy. I'm dead in the water here. Went through all the usuals; flowers, chocolates, lingerie, sex toys..."

"Woah, dude," Sam protested, choking down his mouthful of pancakes and glaring at Dean, who simply shrugged.

"I know, I know... it's meant to be a gift for her, not me," Dean acknowledged with a lop-sided grin, watching as a grimace briefly passed over Sam's face.

"Well, what about jewellery or something? Girls like jewellery, right?" Sam reasoned, shovelling another forkful of pancake into his mouth as he watched Dean mull over his suggestion.

"Nah, I already thought about that... Jo's not your typical girl, she's not into all that stuff," Dean stated, snatching up his own mug of coffee and adding it to the already laden tray.

Sam went to speak, suddenly thinking better of it and swallowing back his words before they had chance to escape his lips. Dean's interest was piqued by his brother's uncertain expression and he loitered in the doorway.

"Out with it, Sammy..." he ordered, balancing the tray in one hand as Sam cleared his throat and began poking at the fruit on his plate with feigned interest.

"Well... this is serious, you and Jo, I mean?" Sam half asked, half stated, waiting until he was certain he now had Dean's full attention, "then, maybe you should think about giving her something of Mom's?"

Shock passed quickly over Dean's features. Sam continued to reach for the pancake syrup and heaped a generous helping atop his plate.

"Wow," Dean murmured before repeating quietly under his breath, "wow."

"Bad idea?" Sam queried, cocking his head to one side as he watched Dean mull over the idea in his mind. Affixing his gaze on Sam, Dean shook his head.

"No, I just..." Dean trailed off and then a wide grin erupted across his face, "I guess it means things are kind of serious. You sure you don't mind Sammy?"

Sam paused, shook his head, and then said pointedly, "Of course not. Mom would want us to do something with the things Dad kept. If it feels right to you, then I'm happy. I think there's a bunch of stuff in Dad's old storage lock up, her bracelet, her locket, and maybe some other things."

Dean peered down thoughtfully at the flowers on the tray and nodded. "I think I got an idea what to give her," he murmured. John had kept one or two items of Mary's with him at all times out on the road and, after his death, Dean had made sure they were safe. The small wooden trinket box currently sat in his nightstand drawer, and one item in particular seemed to be a fitting birthday gift for Jo.

"Thanks, dude," Dean shot a grateful smile in his sibling's direction and then gestured down to the tray of food pointedly.

Sam swallowed a mouthful and smiled, "No problem. And… Dean?" He watched as his brother paused and turned in his direction once again, eyebrow arched questioningly. "For what it's worth, I think Mom would really like Jo. If you think about it, they're kind of alike, you know?"

"Well, so were me and the old man, but that didn't always go so well," Dean quipped, glancing at the floor as a sorrowful expression flitted across his face. He brushed his grief aside quickly however and shot Sam a departing grin before he bounded upstairs with the tray.

Dean paused in the open bedroom doorway, drinking in the sight of Jo curled up in the centre of the bed, snoring peacefully from her open mouth. He chuckled at the picture and then fell silent as his gaze befell the nightstand, where the box he required was located. Dean's breath caught in his throat as he contemplated his own idea, and yet still he knew that nothing would dissuade him from it now.

"Mornin'," Jo drawled, suddenly rolling over and affixing Dean with a tired smile. Her hair partially obscured her face in a crazy tangle, and Jo ran her fingers through it desperately in an effort to calm it.

"Hey there birthday girl," Dean said as he waited for Jo to settle against the pillows before resting the tray on her knee with a flourish and a waggle of his eyebrows. Jo nodded her head, obviously impressed by the result of Dean's toil, and offered him a kiss in reward.

"You let me sleep in," murmured Jo, and her tone was appreciative. Lifting the fork from the tray, Jo wasted little time in seizing the syrup jug and pouring it liberally over her pancake stack, all the while uttering what Dean would term 'yummy noises'.

"You approve?" Dean asked, his green eyes gleaming as he waited for Jo to swallow the first mouthful of food.

"Oh my God…" Jo groaned, raising her eyes to heaven as she spoke through her breakfast. Her voice was muffled and crumbs spilled from her lips as she continued to add, "These are really good."

"Good," said Dean, narrowing his eyes as he leaned forwards and brushed a kiss across Jo's crown, "then you won't be mad that I ignored your specific request and went ahead and got you a gift anyway."

Swallowing her food and shooting him a suitably suspicious glare, Jo rolled her eyes and watched as he sat down on the edge of the bed and began fishing through the bottom drawer of the nightstand.

"Dean…" she scolded, blinking as he pressed his finger to her lips and smiled his typically charming smile.

"Try not to look at it as a birthday gift," he reasoned, blindly locating the trinket box and then fishing out the item he was searching for, "I mean, this is probably gonna be yours one day anyway, I'm just giving it to you in advance."

Jo appeared thoroughly bemused as Dean closed the drawer and then turned to her. She arched an eyebrow as she noted an uneasy countenance suddenly descend upon him, and he cleared his throat as he looked down at the small, gold object in his hands.

"This belonged to my Mom," he explained, offering Jo the diamond eternity band as it glistened between his fingers in the sunlight. "My Dad gave it to her not long after I was born."

Jo was uncharacteristically silent, her mouth falling open as she let the fork rest against the tray with a clatter.

"I know we're not ready for marriage, or picket fences, or any of the other stuff yet, but… one day, well, one day I know we will be. Okay, maybe not the picket fences, but you know what I mean," he babbled, sighing as he added sincerely, "there's no other woman I'd ever want to give this to, Jo and… and I'm kind of running out of things to say here, so you wanna cut me some slack and say something instead?"

Jo swallowed hard and reached out a hand to caress Dean's cheek, her eyes beginning to tear up as the full sentiment of his gesture reached her.

"Dean, are you sure?" Jo whispered, blinking rapidly as Dean extended her left hand and slipped the ring onto her finger with an unwavering smile.

"Never been more sure of anything," Dean affirmed, wrapping Jo in his arms as she proceeded to bury her head in his chest.

"Thank you," she murmured, pulling away only to initiate a tender kiss that Dean returned with vigour.

"Is Sam ok with this?" Jo worried, biting her bottom lip as she considered the option that perhaps the younger Winchester would be less than pleased by Dean's gift to her.

"Sam's totally cool with it," he assured, grinning as he captured Jo's hand and raised it to the light in order to properly survey the ring on her finger. "Fits like a… glove, I guess."

"It's beautiful, Dean," said Jo vehemently, before interlacing her hands at the back of Dean's neck and dragging his body towards her own to continue where their last kiss had broken off.

He reached out and pushed the now abandoned breakfast tray toward the far edge of the bed, and allowed her to gently pull him backwards with her against the pillows.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," Dean said softly, brushing a feather light kiss against the shell of her ear before he sought out her lips hungrily. He smiled at the faint taste of syrup that lingered upon her, and began industriously peppering her skin with kisses.

Happily losing himself in the feel of her skin beneath his and the soft murmurs drifting from her lips, Dean swept his hand in an explorative path over her body, finding himself emitting a low, throaty growl as her hips arched against him.

Jo busied herself with seeking out the hem of his shirt and within seconds the white cotton garment was hitting the floor. A further host of discarded clothing was flung aside and the couple soon forgot breakfast as they became lost in each other.

A hesitant rapping on the bedroom door drew their attention, and Sam's nervous cough could clearly be heard as he awaited what he knew would be a somewhat testy response.

"Seriously, Sammy?" Dean yelled, sighing in defeat as he rested his weight on his elbows and shot Jo an apologetic smile.

"Uhm, sorry to… interrupt, guys," Sam called out, and Dean could almost imagine the blush rising on his cheeks. "Bobby just called. His friend at the coroner's office gave him a tip off. Some guy was murdered in his home last night, run through with a searing blade that didn't leave a drop of blood. And get this, his heart was cleaved in two."

"Which coroner's office?" Dean bellowed, rolling his eyes at Jo as Sam continued to loiter at the closed door, his enthusiasm for a new case now apparently ignited. Under his breath, Dean growled irately, "I swear to God…"

"Belfast, Maine," hollered Sam, his voice laced with excitement and evident eagerness. "Bobby thinks we should hit the road right away. Said his friend sounded pretty freaked."

Dean let out a noise half way between a sigh and a snarl, before reluctantly rolling onto his side from atop Jo's body. Her smile disappointed and almost sympathetic, Jo patted Dean's chest and consoled him with quick kiss.

"So, I'll meet you guys outside in a half hour?" Sam prompted, tapping one foot against the floor as he awaited a response.

"Fine!" shouted Dean, huffing as he listened to Sam's heavy, retreating footfalls with murderous intent evident upon his face. However, his brother's voice was suddenly at the door again, spilling into the room calmly.

"Oh, and Jo? Happy Birthday."

**x-x-x**

**Belfast Police Department, Maine **

**June 4****th**** 2011, 09.19am**

Strolling through the halls of the police department building, Dean and Sam avoided the curious gazes of the officers who passed them by, and bestowed each with a smile and a curt nod. After a day and a half's drive from Nebraska to Maine, they had arrived in Belfast that morning and immediately begun to gather evidence surrounding the recent murder. Whilst Sam and Dean had headed to the police department to speak to the newly widowed Mrs. Dawson, Jo was busy going door-to-door with the couple's neighbours, hoping to gather any information that might prove or disprove a supernatural element to the case.

Pausing before a uniformed officer who sat behind the reception desk, the brothers exhibited their fake FBI badges with exaggerated impatience.

"I'm Agent Simpson, this here is Agent Flanders," Dean stated, tucking his ID back into his breast pocket as he explained, "you've got a woman named Helen Dawson in custody, and we'd like to talk to her."

The officer balked and shook his hand in warning, "I'm afraid I can't do that, uh… Agent… Agent…"

"Simpson," Dean supplied shortly, narrowing his eyes as he leant on the counter and held the officer in an unwavering gaze.

"Nobody mentioned the FBI being involved," the officer frowned, glancing with apparent suspicion at the two men, before turning back to his sergeant for support. "Hey Bill, can you come on out here? These gentlemen say they're from the FBI… said they want to speak to Helen Dawson. I don't remember hearing anything about the Feds. being involved in the case."

Sergeant 'Bill' pushed forwards, his gaze analytical as it swept both Sam and Dean, the latter of whom had drawn himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest in an effort to increase the importance of his presence.

Narrowing his eyes at Dean, the sergeant shook his head in evident uncertainty. Dean growled in show of frustration as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a business card, which he proceeded to slap onto the counter.

"This is a direct line to the assistant director," Dean snapped, glancing at Sam and rolling his eyes as though tired of the mild inconvenience, "give him a call, and once he's chewed you out for interfering with a federal matter, we'll take our coffees black with two sugars."

Dean simply proceeded to stroll past the desk and down the corridor, blowing out the breath he had been holding in a rush. Shooting the sergeant a wan smile, Sam jogged in Dean's wake, once again impressed by his brother's nerve. He knew that the sergeant would soon reach Bobby on his dedicated 'FBI' line, and that after a thorough yet articulate chewing out by the old hunter, the police would buy their story just long enough for them to conduct their own interview with Helen Dawson. However, Sam could not help but think that there would come a day when Bobby's narrative would not be believed, and they would be forced to come up with a contingency plan.

"Agents Simpson and Flanders, FBI… we're here to speak to Mrs. Dawson," Sam relayed to the guard outside the interrogation room. Thankfully, the police officer only briefly scanned the proffered ID badges before he opened the door to the adjacent room, where a petite, blonde woman sat sobbing over the table.

Dean and Sam nodded at the guard, before stepping into the room and closing the door behind them, as Helen Dawson glanced up fearfully from behind blood shot eyes. Her hands shook as she dabbed at her cheeks, the stains of her previous tears ran in tracks down her skin and she trembled noticeably as the two suited men entered the room.

Dean sighed as he took in the pitiful sight of the woman before him, and he noted that her arms were littered with old bruises and her left cheek seemed slightly swollen.

"Mrs. Dawson, my name's Agent Simpson, this is Agent Flanders… we're with the FBI," he stated, watching as she nodded in understanding and ran a shaky hand through the ends of her lank, blonde hair.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions about your husband's death," Sam continued.

"I've already told the officers everything I know," she sobbed, wringing her hands as she shook her head resolutely, "you've got to believe me… I didn't kill my husband."

Dean cocked his head as he scrutinised the bruises on her skin, and he frowned as he tried to make out the markings around the top of her arm that seemed to be in the shape of grasping fingers.

"Mrs. Dawson, can you tell us how you got those bruises on your arms," he gestured to his face and nodded toward her as he added, "and on your cheek?"

"My husband drank," she whispered, a curtain of thick lashes hiding her eyes as she lowered her gaze to the table top, threading and unthreading her fingers as she made no effort to elaborate.

Sam sucked in a quiet but undeniably angry breath, whilst Dean maintained an impassive expression, realising that they had been duped by a witness effectively playing the victim before.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Dean answered, seating himself across from Helen and removing his notepad from his pocket. At her questioning glance he stated, "I'll be making a few notes about our interview today. Standard procedure."

"I really didn't kill him," Helen merely whispered. Sam could not draw his gaze away from the broken and shaking woman who hunched over the table hugging her midriff as though she were in actual physical pain.

"Can you tell us what happened last night?" Sam probed, offering Helen an encouraging smile and pushing a fresh packet of tissues across the table to her. She accepted the offering, but her eyes belayed the suspicion she harboured towards her latest inquisitors.

"I went to bed around eight thirty, my son Robbie was sick so I took him into the guest bedroom with me, and then Scott came home around two-forty I guess," she said, her tone sounding strangely automatic as though she had repeated the story countless times and had now committed the same script to memory.

"What happened when Mr. Dawson came home?" Dean inquired, wincing as the woman before him chewed on her bottom lip fiercely to staunch the flow of a further tide of tears.

"He… h-he was drunk…" she gulped through her sobs, "he came looking for me in our bedroom and… when he couldn't find me… he was mad…"

Dean nodded and Sam reached forwards with one hand, covering Helen's fingers with his own in a gesture of comfort that seemed to surprise the woman.

"That must have been awful," Sam sympathised. "We know this is hard for you Mrs. Dawson, but anything you can tell us may help to clear you of your husband's murder."

"I just want to see my son," she choked out, raking her hands through to the ends of her hair and seeming to almost crumple in her chair.

Dean pressed on however, anxious to ascertain if the woman before them was indeed a suitable suspect in the murder case, although he suspected from her present demeanour that the Belfast Police Department had jumped to a hasty conclusion.

"Mrs. Dawson, you said your husband came looking for you… can you tell us what happened next?"

Helen shrugged, an expression of genuine confusion flooded her features as she peered back at him. "He started pounding on the bedroom door, but I'd pushed the dresser in front of it, so he couldn't get in. I put Robbie in the closet and then it all went quiet…" she swallowed hard, her tone tinged with bewilderment as she explained, "and then I hear Scott screaming, and by the time I'd pushed the dresser out of the way and opened the door, he was… he was slumped against the wall… I guess I passed out for a while, but when I came to I dialled 911 and… and I tried CPR, but… but he was dead. They said he'd been stabbed… but there was no blood. How could that be?"

Dean shook his head, "I don't know ma'am, but my partner and I are gonna find out. Look, you say your husband had a pretty nasty temper, did he have any enemies that you know of?"

Helen shook her head, rubbing her fingertips over her eyes as she blinked rapidly under the bright lighting, "No, nobody."

"And you've never noticed any… unusual occurrences in your home before now?" Sam asked, deflecting her quizzical frown with a smile.

"Like what?" her eyes darted furtively between the brothers and she seemed confused by this new line of questioning.

"Well, things going missing, strange noises after dark, flickering lights," Dean listed, all the while busily scrawling away on the notepad.

"What does my wiring have to do with Scott's death?" Helen demanded, clearly bemused. Sam shot a warning glance at Dean, who nodded his head and offered Helen a smile before pushing away from the table and returning his notepad to his pocket.

"Okay then, Mrs. Dawson. We'll be in touch soon," Dean promised, his heart genuinely aching for the woman as tears continued to trickle down her cheeks. The brothers had barely reached the door of the interview room before Helen called out to them, stilling them in their tracks.

"Wait, there was one thing…" Helen said, pausing as though uncertain as to whether to continue. Sam nodded encouragingly and took a step back towards the woman.

"Go on."

"The day before Scott… was killed… well, this will sound crazy… but…" she paused again, inhaling deeply before ploughing onward, "well, there were feathers."

"Feathers?" Dean repeated, furrowing his brow and grimacing. Helen nodded and looked to Sam, whose presence was by far the more reassuring of the two men in her eyes.

"Like bird feathers?" queried Sam, returning to his seat opposite Helen and leaning across the table. She shook her head and, despite the situation, a smile found its way across her lips.

"No, not like any bird feather I've ever seen," she whispered, "they were beautiful. The deepest black… so soft and almost like they were glittering or something… it's silly I guess."

She pushed her hair out of her eyes, and Sam noticed once again the disfiguration of her cheekbone where she had clearly received quite a blow in the not too distant past.

"What made this seem odd to you?" Sam demanded, realising that there must have been some more mysterious aspect to the tale than simply a few feathers in the Dawson's back yard. Helen frowned and arched an eyebrow.

"Well, it's not every day you find feathers like that in your bed."

"Your bed?" Dean asked slowly, suspicion beginning to cloud his features.

"A dozen or so," Helen answered, her eyes seeming to mist over at the memory. "They were just right there in the bed, when I pulled back the covers. Strangest thing I've ever seen. But not what you were after, I guess. I just thought maybe…. Never mind, I don't know what I thought…"

Their attention was simultaneously drawn toward the door as a tall, red-haired woman strolled in, wearing a no-nonsense business suit and clutching a brief case in her hand which she proceeded to place on the table.

"There'll be no more questions gentlemen, should you wish to talk to my client again, I'd appreciate it if you did so when I was present," she barked as she fished a business card out of her pocket and handed it to Dean. The name Karen Geller was embossed on the card in black cursive, announcing the considerable qualifications of the woman, as well as her status as a junior partner in what appeared to be a prestigious law firm.

"You're her lawyer?" he arched an eyebrow, noting the confused expression that had returned to Mrs. Dawson's face.

"I'm sorry, there must be some sort of mistake," Helen interrupted, her eyes widening as the attorney placed a hand on her shoulder and shot Sam and Dean a thoroughly unimpressed glare.

"Have a nice day, gentlemen," Karen smiled tightly, watching with satisfaction as Sam and Dean exchanged glances and then made their way somewhat unwillingly to the door.

"Mrs. Dawson, we'll be in touch," Dean stated, producing a contact card which he placed on the table before her, ignoring the exasperated sigh he received from her lawyer, "if you remember anything else, just give us a call."

Helen nodded, snatching up the card and picking at the edges with her fingers as both men bestowed a reassuring smile in her direction before exiting the room.

"You think she did it?" Sam asked, glancing behind him to make sure they were out of earshot of the police officers loitering around the entrance of the department building.

Dean shook his head, digging in his pocket for his car keys as they strolled across the parking lot, "Nope. You see those bruises?"

Sam merely nodded in reply. Dean released a heavy hearted sigh and rested his hands on the roof of the car as he stared across at his sibling.

"Tell you the truth Sammy, I'm thinking the guy got what was coming to him."

Hesitating, Sam replied, "I guess so, but it's not really up to us to decide that. Whatever killed him, we have to…"

"Yeah, I know," Dean sighed, rubbing his hand across his jaw as he added, "we gotta track it and put it down before it kills again. Even if it has rid the world of one more scumbag."

"I just don't understand it," said Sam, meeting Dean's gaze as they simultaneously slid into the Impala and slammed the doors.

"What's that?"

Dean wasted no time in pulling away from the curb but he continued to watch Sam through the rear view mirror as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt collar.

"How a guy can do that to the woman he loves," replied Sam, his mouth pressed into a grim line.

Dean shrugged, watching impatiently for the lights of the intersection to change as he mulled over his brother's question, "I don't know, Sammy… and I don't want to."

Sam remained silent and simply nodded in agreement, leaning his elbow on the edge of door as the lights changed to green and the Impala sped off toward the motel.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Authors' Note - We drunk! Sorry readers.**_

**Episode Four - Part Two**

'**Good Enough'**

**x-x-x**

Opening the door of the motel room with a dramatic yet weary flourish, Dean stepped through the doorway, his gaze almost immediately settling on the figure sitting on the double bed.

"Honey, I'm home," he announced, smiling charmingly as Jo glanced up then rolled her eyes with an amused smirk.

"Hey Jo," Sam offered in greeting, wincing on her behalf as Dean threw himself down on the bed beside her, and began tugging with obvious irritation at the tie around his neck.

"You boys have fun?" she asked, watching Dean struggle for a few more seconds before she placed the papers she had been reading in her lap and leant over to assist him. Tossing the tie onto the nightstand, she arched an eyebrow as both men sighed and uttered a resounding 'no'.

"Looks like our vic. was a wife-beating asshole," Dean declared, his gaze wandering languidly over Jo's body. He smiled as he noted that she had yet to change out of her suit and was currently sitting back against the headboard, top buttons of her blouse undone, and her feet bare.

Jo's toenails were stained with a baby pink polish that surprised Dean somewhat given the hunter's usual disdain for anything even remotely feminine. Almost as though sensing Dean's eyes upon her, Jo curled her toes beneath her feet before she tossed the paperwork aside and regarded the brothers.

"So I heard," Jo replied, folding her arms across her chest, "the Dawson's neighbours were awful chatty, and not a lot of it was complimentary to old Scotty."

"Did any of them see anything strange that night?" Sam inquired, easing into a chair that stood opposite the bed and shrugging out of his jacket. Jo shook her head and her loose blonde waves tumbled about her shoulders with the gesture.

"Most of them think she did it," Jo explained, her expression saddened, "it sounds like she really struck out with that guy."

"Oh yeah, he's a real charmer," Dean exclaimed, frowning as he corrected himself, "_was_ a real charmer."

"That was pretty much the general consensus of the local neighbourhood watch committee," Jo agreed derisively, "oh, aside from one neighbour, who I'm pretty sure was sleeping with him."

"She a suspect?" Sam asked, picking up a takeout menu he found on the table beside him and scanning it with disinterest.

"Nope," Jo replied, popping the 'p' in the word and shrugging, "cheap, nasty and dumb as a post, sure. But a murderer? I doubt it."

"Why are we here, again?" Dean asked wearily, kicking off his shoes and moving to rest his head against Jo's shoulder. She glanced down at him in mild annoyance as he caused her to drop the papers she had begun reading through once again.

"Because of these?" Jo replied, waving the papers and press clippings in front of his face. She waited until he had taken them from her before she manoeuvred a little lower against the headboard and ran her fingers absently through his hair. She found her gaze instantly captured by the ring on her finger, and was unable to contain the smile that settled on her lips. A blush rose up her cheeks as she found Sam had intercepted her gaze.

Dean scanned the newspaper articles and as his eyes skimmed the final press clipping he released a thoroughly irritable sigh.

"What?" Sam queried, frowning as his brother held the papers aloft, signalling for Sam to take them from him.

"Three victims Sammy, and all of them have a stack of charges against their names for violent crimes against women," said Dean, glancing from Sam back to Jo, "something out there is doling out justice to these bastards."

"And we have to be the ones to stop it," Jo replied, her lips pursed and her tone somewhat sour as she deliberated over the situation. "Anyone else up for skipping town and granting the monster a reprieve?"

"It's not that easy, Jo," Sam said as he skimmed over the stack of papers, grimacing occasionally as he came across evidence photographs from various domestic abuse cases involving the partners of the victims. "As much as we'd like it to be."

"Do you think it could be something these women are invoking?" Jo inquired, drawing a blank as she wracked her brain in order to think of a creature that fit the bill. Both Sam and Dean shrugged, and Jo immediately got the impression that neither Winchester was particularly eager to catch the perp. at hand.

"Could be," Dean agreed, "or it could be something that's fixing onto these guys because of their specific personality traits."

"Like the ghost sickness, you mean?" Sam offered, hiding a smirk as he recalled Dean's brush with that particular phenomenon.

"Ghost sickness?" Jo queried, grinning as Sam mouthed an 'I'll tell you later' and Dean coughed pointedly in order to steer the conversation back on course.

"How was Mrs. Dawson?" Jo asked, her sympathies immediately resting with the woman the police department seemed eager to pin the latest murder upon.

"Covered in bruises," Dean replied, grasping Jo's hand and interlocking their fingers as he added, "she just wanted to be with her son, poor kid's holed up in foster care right now."

"We need to find out who paid for her attorney," Sam added, "she seemed kind of surprised when that lawyer lady turned up like that."

Dean nodded, peering down at Jo's hand as he became lost in thought, "There's gotta be a link between all the victims… I'm thinking it's the wives and girlfriends we need to be looking at. We know the guys were all assholes, handy with their fists… but what do the women have in common?"

Sam shook his head, "You mean like a cop? Someone in the local PD? Looking at these press clippings, it doesn't look like any of the women went as far as pressing charges."

"Maybe not a cop," Dean shook his head, glancing up at Jo as she nibbled thoughtfully on her bottom lip.

"All I know is, if we don't act fast, five innocent women are going down for murders they didn't commit," Jo said, collecting together the discarded newspapers and placing them on the nightstand.

"We're not going to let that happen," Dean assured, wrapping an arm around Jo's shoulder and squeezing affectionately. She offered him a smile, and then kissed him briefly on the lips.

"Why don't we order dinner and take a look at the evidence again later?" Sam suggested, returning his attentions to the takeout menu that he had abandoned earlier, his interest now renewed as his stomach grumbled to remind him that he had not eaten since the granola bar he had bought at breakfast that morning.

"We never did go out for your birthday," agreed Dean, rubbing his hands together in a show of enthusiasm as Sam began to circle dishes on the menu. Jo giggled and elbowed Dean playfully in the ribs.

"Like you need an excuse to order takeout," she chided, rolling her eyes to emphasize her point. Dean shrugged, and joined Sam across the room with his cell phone in a state of readiness.

"I'm sure there'll be a low budget, hideously misinformed horror movie on the TV later, might as well make a night of it?" Dean suggested, watching Jo's eyes widen in enthusiasm. Despite the grizzly nature of their jobs, there was nothing Jo liked better than a bad horror movie; she relished pointing out all the inaccuracies and ludicrous plot lines in much the same way Dean supposed a nurse or cop did with the many medical dramas and crime procedurals on TV.

"Alright, but no more torture or slasher movies, those things are just gross," she wrinkled her nose at the prospect and proceeded to gather her hair up into a messy ponytail.

Sam smiled faintly and glanced between the couple, "Soon as the takeout's here, I'll head back to my room, leave you guys to it."

"No, stay!" Jo insisted, shaking her head as she stood up from the bed and sauntered over toward the table to look over the menu Dean held.

"No, seriously guys, it's fine… I don't want to interrupt," Sam held up his hands and smiled as he watched Dean's arm suddenly snake around Jo's waist and draw her to him.

"Sam, stay," Jo arched an eyebrow and looked down at him in warning, "we'll make it a family night."

"Yeah dude, stay," Dean agreed, punching in the number of the restaurant on his phone and holding it up to his ear as he peered down at his brother.

"Okay," Sam agreed, realising the sincerity behind their invitation. And if he were being truthful, he did not want to be alone with his thoughts since they tended toward the maudlin as of late.

"Cool," Jo replied with a cheesy grin as she gestured to the items on the menu that she wanted without out even looking at it. Dean nodded his understanding and soon began relaying the rather lengthy order to the restaurant.

Still wearing her smile, Jo collapsed onto the motel bed and seized the TV guide, beginning to flip through it with a ghoulish twinkle in her eye as she searched for a suitably ridiculous movie.

**x-x-x**

Dean lazed against the pillows, his hands resting on his stomach as he stared at the television screen in a half comatose state. Jo was sprawled at his side, her head propped up on her arm and her index finger trailing around in the sauce of a barbecue rib carton that was empty save for one solitary rib.

"You want the last one?" Jo inquired, cocking her head to one side and gesturing to the carton. Her expression was undeniably hopeful and Dean could not resist grinning.

"Nah, you have it," he answered, his eyes widening as Jo dug into the food as though she had not eaten for a week. "How can you eat so much and still stay so skinny?"

"Fast metabolism," Jo said with a shrug as she nibbled at the rib with her lips peeled delicately back.

Dean chuckled, watching with renewed interest as she systematically devoured the meat from the rib then slowly sucked the sauce from her fingers. Dropping the bone into the empty carton, Jo arched an eyebrow disdainfully as she saw Dean advance toward her out of the corner of her eye.

"You got a little…" he flashed her a lopsided smile and gestured toward the corner of her mouth, brushing his thumb over her lip to remove a smear of sauce.

"Dean," Jo warned, staring up at him as he angled his body toward hers and leant up over her, inching his lips ever closer.

"Sam's here," she protested in a whisper, any further protestations silenced by an eager kiss.

"He's practically unconscious," Dean argued, shooting a sideways glance at his brother who was snoring from the chair. Dean's hands searched out Jo's hips and he hauled her on top of him before settling her against his chest. Sighing in defeat at Jo's unimpressed expression, he rolled his head back against the pillows dramatically and slapped her rear.

"Fine. But you're killing me here," he informed her as she patted his chest in a placating gesture and leant up to press a slightly more chaste kiss to his lips.

"You think Sam's okay?" Jo asked, lifting her eyes to focus on Dean's face as she lay her head against his chest and he began to rake his fingers through her hair. "He's been acting kind of… strange, lately."

Dean nodded; he could hardly have failed to notice his brother's uncharacteristic behaviour over the past month or so. Despite Sam assuring him all was well, he knew his sibling better than perhaps even Sam himself realised. Dean could tell that something was not right with Sam and the fact that he was powerless to help was damn near killing him.

"He's been having nightmares," Dean relayed quietly, staring over toward Sam with obvious concern and sympathy, "he won't talk about them, but… I think they're about Jess."

"Jess was his fiancé?" Jo checked. She nestled slightly closer into his arms, feeling his chest rise and fall against her cheek as he emitted a heavy breath and murmured in affirmation.

"How long has it been since…?" she asked uncertainly, her eyes following Dean's hand as he reached for the TV remote and shut it off. The room was plunged into darkness and Jo felt both of his arms encircle her like a vice.

"Almost six years," Dean answered. He had always wished that he had gotten to know the woman who had meant so much to his younger brother a lot better than he had. The little he did know about Jess was pieced together from what Sam had told him during the earlier stages of his grief, and the many tearful eulogies that had been read at her funeral years before. These days, Sam refrained from talking about Jess altogether, and so Dean refused to push the matter.

"I guess it never gets any easier," Jo speculated, although it was clear to Dean that she was referring entirely to Sam's loss and not her own. Lately it seemed that Jo was beginning to push forwards rather than lingering in the unchangeable past the way Sam appeared to be.

"I know it never did for my Dad," replied Dean, his gaze still affixed upon Sam as he slept, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

"I don't think Mom ever got over Dad either," Jo said whilst brushing her hand along Dean's chest as she closed her eyes. She stifled a yawn with her hand and nestled closer into his body.

His lips fluttered against her forehead and Jo smiled at the sensation of the stubble on his jaw, as he nuzzled her cheek.

"You know, part of me thinks, it's been six years… he should move on," Dean mused, still slightly surprised at the ease with which he was able to talk to Jo. But then it had always been that way between them, and he often recalled the discussions they had had upon first meeting, when he had found himself talking about his father and his childhood; topics not generally up for discussion with strangers . Even back then he had known that Jo was different to other girls, and that it was not solely a physical attraction that drew him to her.

"But?" she prompted, recognising the tinge of doubt in his tone.

"But… I don't know, maybe you don't ever get over something like that," he speculated hoarsely. "I don't ever wanna find out."

"Me neither," she whispered, bestowing a soft kiss on his lips before she began to move off the bed. "Just a second…"

Dean sat up, frowning as he watched her cross the room and tiptoe over to Sam. She pulled a blanket over his sleeping form, and removed a soda can from it's precarious position at the edge of the couch.

Jo rummaged in her bag, retrieving a pair of cotton shorts. Casting a quick glance in Sam's direction, she unbuttoned her jeans and yanked them down her legs, pulling on the shorts as she placed her discarded clothes in a heap on top of the gym bag. The entire operation was complete in less than two minutes, and Dean nodded in an impressed manner. Jo sneaked back to bed and curled up at Dean's side, smiling at him as he stroked her cheek.

"I'm so tired," she announced with a yawn, frowning as her cheek rested against bare skin and she suddenly realised that Dean too had undressed and had slipped beneath the covers.

"It's a whole lot cooler here than it is back home," Dean stated thankfully, his hand resting atop Jo's as she ran her fingertips across his chest in order to trace the outline of his tattoo.

She smiled at his use of the word 'home' and glanced up at him as she felt his fingertips rubbing against the cool metal of her ring.

"Know what I realised today?" she mused, finding herself lulled by the rhythmic pounding of his heart beneath her ear.

"What's that?" he enquired sleepily, pulling the sheet up over their bodies as their legs entwined beneath the covers.

Jo arched an eyebrow as she thought over the day's events and the indescribably tragic lives of the women involved in their case.

"Well, even though you make me all kinds of crazy sometimes," she shot Dean a wry smile as he shrugged, "I guess I'm pretty lucky I've got you."

Dean laughed quietly, slipping his hand under Jo's tank top and beginning to rub slow circles across her back.

"Are you kidding? I'm freakin' adorable," he replied with a self-assured waggle of his eyebrows, "I'm the total package, sweetheart."

"Oh, God," Jo groaned, giggling in despair at the wink she received.

Settling back against the pillows, Dean swept her up in his arms and brushed a lingering kiss against her lips. They continued to whisper in the darkness, laughing and talking in hushed tones as Sam slept on, and the impending dawn beckoned a new day ever closer.

**x-x-x**

Dean was accustomed to being awoken by the sounds of 'Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution' at all hours of the night and morning. It was, however, an entirely new experience for Jo. She shot up in bed bolt upright, her heart racing as her boyfriend reached calmly for his cell phone and stabbed at a button in the darkness before raising It to his ear.

"Hello?" he demanded, his voice thick with sleep and seconds later he stifled a yawn behind his palm. Jo flopped back against the pillows, pulling the covers up around her as Sam began to stir in the armchair and stretch out his limbs.

"How did you get this number?" Dean inquired, although his tone was more curious than really confrontational. "Bobby, huh? Ok then, James, what can we do for you?"

Dean listened intently for a few minutes, neither moving nor passing any kind of comment as the person on the other end of the phone talked. The voice was deep and clearly male, but beyond that Jo could discern little of what was being said. She did, however, believe that the word 'body' was cropping up one too many times for her liking.

Both she and Sam waited patiently in the darkness for the call to end, and before long Dean was making his polite goodbyes and finishing up the conversation.

"What happened?" Jo pressed immediately, barely giving Dean time to replace his phone onto the nightstand. Dean rubbed at his bleary eyes and then turned to regard Sam and then Jo in turn.

"That was Bobby's friend from the coroner's office," Dean explained, glancing at his wristwatch and wrinkling his brow in distaste as he realised that it was just before four am. "There's been another murder within the last half hour. The cops are on the scene now. If we can get dressed and head down there, he thinks he can get us into the crime scene."

"Let's go," Sam agreed, stumbling to his feet and groaning as he realised that his legs were practically numb from having been curled under his large body for most of the night. "Right after I regain feeling in my legs."

"Are the details the same on this one?" Jo checked, "I mean, he's sure these two cases are related?"

"Guy was stabbed right through the heart in his own bathroom," Dean said, his expression darkening as he added, "about ten minutes after he he'd beaten his girlfriend to a pulp. The only blood on the body is hers."

Dragging herself out of bed with a significant grimace, Jo threw back the covers and wandered over to the business suit she had discarded over a chair only hours before.

Sam rubbed his hand over his face and yawned profusely, something that did not go unnoticed by his brother.

"You wanna sit this one out, Sammy? Jo and I can go, and you can pull research duty back here…" Dean suggested, walking into the bathroom as he began to run the faucet and grabbed his toothbrush, which he daubed with a healthy amount of toothpaste.

Sam shrugged, stifling another yawn as Jo glanced over toward him in concern and headed into the bathroom to dress, as Dean exited a few minutes later.

"Seriously, dude… stay here, grab a couple more hours," Dean threw on a white cotton shirt, before grabbing his tie from Jo's nightstand.

"You sure?" Sam asked, his tone somewhat reluctant but his eyes betraying the extent of his weariness. Both Jo and Dean nodded, and within minutes were suitably attired and exiting the motel room in order to make their way to the scene of the latest crime.

Meanwhile, Sam sprawled across the double bed they had previously been sharing, and fell into a dreamless slumber.

**x-x-x**

Bobby's contact had been as good as his word and, after quickly and quietly introducing himself to the hunters, had escorted them onto the crime scene where they had presented themselves as FBI once again. After ensuring that the hunters had gained access to the relevant areas of the house, James had then departed at speed to carry out his own job, Dean could only assume for fear of being associated with the fraudulent feds.

Casting their gazes around the master bedroom and adjoining bathroom, Dean and Jo wore similarly appalled expressions, as the full extent of their victim's violent outburst could be seen. Pieces of glass lay in jagged shards on the ground, surrounded by a pool of water and a pathetic heap of trodden flowers. Their petals lay strewn across the floorboards, along with the books from an upturned bookcase and a broken photograph frame that contained an image of the couple.

Jo stepped over the glass, pausing in the doorway of the bathroom as she followed the path of destruction to the edge of the tub, where a bloody smear stained the porcelain, along with a clump of long, dark hair. Noting that the man in the photograph was blonde, Jo shuddered as she realised that it undoubtedly belonged to his girlfriend.

"Hey, Jo… look at this," Dean called out, approaching the bathroom door with two jet black feathers held between his gloved fingers.

"More feathers," Jo observed, taking one of them from him and running her fingertip up and down the edge, noting how soft and thick the plumage felt. "So, what are we thinking here? Some sort of vigilante angel?"

She stooped down as she noted a small burn mark in the wall. One glance at the outline of the corpse on the floor told her that the searing hot blade had penetrated their victim's chest cavity with such ease that it had struck the wall behind him.

"Maybe. I think we need to speak to our witness," Dean concluded, his eyes darting around the bathroom as he also spotted the singe mark on the wall and wondered just what kind of weapon the murderer possessed.

"You think she'll be in any state for that right now?" Jo asked quietly, her gaze drifting back to the signs of the struggle that had so obviously taken place in the room. Dean shook his head and his expression was uncharacteristically sober.

"I doubt it, but what other choice do we have?"

Jo nodded her own reluctant agreement and, after Dean had dropped the feathers he had discovered into a clear plastic bag, they removed their gloves and headed outside. The coroner was in the process of loading the body into the back of the ambulance when the hunters strode out into the yard, and almost instantly a pained, ear-splitting sobbing alerted them to the location of the woman they were seeking.

The thin, dark-haired woman surged forwards as she watched the shrouded stretcher being loaded into the ambulance, her hand fluttering to her mouth and her eyes widening. Tears spilled from her swollen and somewhat bruised looking lids, and Jo wondered with disdain how the woman could shed tears of sorrow for someone who had never shown her the same concern. However, she pushed her disgust below the surface, and affixed a suitably sympathetic look upon her face as she moved forwards to intercept the crying brunette. The blanket that had been cocooning the woman dropped to the grass and Dean bent to retrieve it, before moving hesitantly forwards and draping it back around her shoulders.

Jo shushed the woman gently and, taking her arm, began to steer her towards the porch, where a pair of wicker chairs stood facing the yard. Seating the woman in the nearest chair, Jo gathered the blanket back around her and then dropped down onto her knees, her hands resting lightly in the woman's lap.

"I know this must be hard for you," Jo whispered, her face inches away from the woman's now, "but my partner and I need you to talk to us. We have to ask you some questions that could help us catch whoever did this… awful thing. You think you can do that?"

Dean noted how Jo's voice adopted an almost musical lilt, as though she were addressing a small, terrified child. However, the woman sniffled and raised her eyes to Jo's face, before nodding without word.

Dean flipped through his notebook, quickly skimming the few details James had been able to share with him about the couple, then lifted his gaze to offer what he hoped would be a reassuring smile.

"Ashley, can you tell us what happened tonight? Who, or… _what_ it was that you think you saw?" he prompted gently.

As she nodded her head, Ashley Wilson's gaze remained trained on her feet. She answered after several seconds in a trembling voice. "I came home from work a little after midnight, and… and Trey was watching the game. We uh… we got into an argument and," she closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, her tongue running over the corner of her lip where it was visibly split.

"He did this to you?" Jo asked, watching the woman as she touched her fingers to the swelling around her eyes and cheekbone, and simply nodded.

"I ran upstairs, locked myself in the bathroom, but… Trey was so mad, he… He kicked the door in and," she shook her head as the scene replayed in her mind, "I think he grabbed my hair, I remember hitting my head on the edge of the bathtub and… and then I saw it."

"What did you see?" Jo encouraged, her heart breaking for the woman before them as Ashley wrung her hands in her lap and finally lifted her eyes to meet Jo's.

"I don't know," she whispered, bewilderment colouring her expression, "it looked like a man, but… but it had…"

She paused, afraid to continue on with her story, "You're gonna think I'm crazy."

"It's okay, you can tell us… we've heard crazier things, I promise you," Dean soothed, placing his hand over hers. He blanched as she shrank away from his touch, and he shot a discrete glance at Jo who smiled at him in reassurance.

"It looked like it had wings," she replied in little more than a whisper, a blush of embarrassment rising up her cheeks. Dean and Jo both nodded in understanding.

"We found black feathers in your bedroom," Dean began, careful to keep his distance, yet encouraged when she finally met his gaze and interrupted his question.

"I've found a couple in the house when I was vacuuming yesterday, one in the den and… and a few more in the bedroom," she trailed off hesitantly before continuing, "what is it? What did this?"

"We don't know yet," Jo said, offering the woman a reassuring half smile as she added, "but we'll find out."

"Maybe I just hit my head too hard," Ashley said bitterly, swiping at the tears that still clung to her cheeks as though irritated by their very presence. Jo squeezed the woman's hand hard, and reached forwards in order to tentatively brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

"We'll find out who did this, and stop them," Jo promised. Her tone altered as she inquired, "You got someplace to go tonight?"

Ashley shrugged and once more her frown was in place, and Jo found herself wondering if the woman even remembered how to smile any more.

"I'm not sure… I don't have any family around…" Ashley murmured, "I guess I could call Mrs. Cooper and see if I could stay with her for a couple days."

Jo nodded, satisfied with Ashley's answer, and climbed to her feet. As the hunters turned in order to make their way back towards the Impala, Ashley's voice suddenly drew their collective attentions.

"Wait…" she called out, stumbling to her feet and jogging down the porch steps to the surprised 'agents'. "Helen…"

"Excuse me?" Dean queried, bemused as the woman stared up at him with a desperate expression present upon her face.

"You're FBI right?" Ashley checked, the faintest tinge of suspicion colouring her tone as Jo and Dean exchanged somewhat embarrassed glances.

"Of course," Dean answered, nodding to reaffirm his attestation.

"Then you can find out for me?" Ashley pleaded, wiping her sleeve across her face in order to brush aside the tear tracks, and wincing as she touched the bruising on her cheekbone.

"Helen Dawson?" Jo checked, frowning as she added, "you know her?"

Ashley nodded, wrapping the blanket around herself tighter as she shivered against the night air, "I met her at Mrs. Cooper's house… but, but I guess I'm not really supposed to talk about that."

"Who's Mrs. Cooper?" Dean asked, searching his notebook back out of his pocket and muttering to himself as he failed to locate his pen. Jo smiled and cleared her throat, slipping her own pen from her pocket and handing it to him covertly.

Ashley paused, pulling the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands as she shrugged non-committaly, "She's just a lady in town… she helps girls out when… when they got no place else to go."

"You mean… uh…" Jo stammered, unable to find a tactful way to finish her question. Instead, she simply closed her mouth and winced at her own ineloquence.

"Yeah," Ashley nodded, adding tentatively, "so, is she okay? Helen, I mean. I heard what happened, I just… she didn't do it, you've got to know that!"

"We know," Dean assured her, bending his head to meet the woman's reluctant gaze, "we're gonna help you, both of you… I promise. Now, if you remember anything else, or you want to talk to us, you just give us a call. Okay?"

"Okay," Ashley agreed, taking the card Jo offered her and clutching it in her hand. Dean cleared his throat pointedly to obtain Jo's attention and gestured toward a trio of approaching police officers.

"We'll be in touch," Jo stated, bestowing a small smile upon Ashley and patting her arm, "you take care of yourself."

Ashley continued to stare after the hunters as they slipped into the front seats of the Impala and began to fasten their safety belts. Her gaze wavered only when a paramedic knelt at her feet, badgering her to allow them to address her wounds.

"You think this Mrs. Cooper is our link?" asked Dean immediately as they rounded the corner and sped away from the hubbub of sirens and flashing lights. Jo twiddled with the knobs of the radio and kicked off her high heeled boots, bending to massage her feet before selecting her answer.

"I think it's the best we have to go on so far," she said carefully, unwilling to commit to a definite yes or no on the subject.

"We should get Sammy to look her up, maybe talk to her tomorrow, see what she knows?" Dean suggested, yawning as he began to tap on the steering wheel along to the beat that played on the radio.

"Sure," Jo replied through an exhausted yawn. She settled back against the seat and closed her eyes, refusing to allow the details of the current case to interfere with her rather desperate need for sleep.

**x-x-x**

Screwing her nose up at the lukewarm coffee in the takeout cup, Jo watched Sam's face intently.

Feeling her gaze upon him, Sam glanced up, his eyes darting repeatedly between Jo and Dean who sat side by side, each glaring at him with poorly concealed impatience.

"You know, this would go a whole lot faster if you guys would stop eyeballing me," Sam sighed, taking his annoyance out on the computer keys.

Jo shrugged, picking up her remaining half of bagel and taking an uncharacteristically prim bite, whilst Dean popped the last of his breakfast burrito into his mouth and screwed up the paper.

"Alright," Sam announced, pushing his chair back from the table and folding his arms across his chest, "Maureen Cooper… aged sixty-four, widowed four years ago, no kids, no family in the area…"

He glanced up at Dean and Jo as he announced, "Looks like she's used her husband's money to fund some community schemes; college funds for underprivileged kids, rebuilding a local family's home after a house fire. Far as I can tell, she's clean. Just a widow with a pretty healthy bank balance."

"What about a women's shelter?" Dean asked, taking the cup of coffee from Jo and wincing almost immediately at the metallic bitterness that assailed his taste buds.

Sam shook his head, "No, nothing."

"Wait, but Ashley said she wasn't supposed to talk about it," Jo reminded Dean as she stirred several sachets of sugar into her coffee in an attempt to salvage it.

"I guess it's not exactly the type of thing they'd publicise," Sam acknowledged, continuing to scroll through the police records on the computer screen to no avail. "Kind of defeats the purpose."

"Ok, so any bright ideas then Sammy?" Dean inquired with a frown as he took a second sip of Jo's coffee and shook his head glumly to signify that her attentions had done little to remedy the unpleasant taste. Jo shrugged and continued to down the cup in one gulp.

"Well, from the police records, as far as I can tell, Maureen Cooper is our link between the women," Sam revealed, abandoning the laptop in favour of his half eaten sandwich, which Jo pushed across the tabletop towards him in a silent but commanding gesture. She had noticed that he has gotten thinner lately and it worried her but, not wanting to appear as though were nagging, Jo settled for pressing food on him when she could.

"Then we go talk to her," Dean suggested.

"You think she'll talk to us?" Sam said doubtfully, wondering just how receptive the woman would be to discussing such a matter with them, especially given her history with the victims' wives and girlfriends.

Dean nodded, absently patting Jo's knee as he tended to do when he was lost in contemplation.

"You mean cos we're a couple of dudes?" he inferred, watching as Sam paused, but then nodded.

"But Jo… I mean, you could go talk to her?" Sam suggested, taking a bite of his sandwich a moment later despite not having any real appetite to speak of.

Jo rolled her eyes, placing her now empty coffee cup on the table as she argued, "If she's protecting these women, or if she's somehow behind the murders, what makes you think she's going to tell me anymore than she'd tell you guys?"

"Jo's got a point, Sammy," Dean agreed, watching suspiciously as an idea formed in Sam's mind. "What?"

"Huh?" Jo glanced between the siblings, sitting up straighter in her chair as she widened her eyes at Sam. She hated when a plan formed 'around' her and experience had made her apprehensive in such circumstances.

"Well, I mean… you're a woman," he cleared his throat, smiling apologetically as she folded her arms across her chest.

"And?" Jo demanded, anticipating the idea about to spill from his lips with dread.

"You could go to her house… " Sam's suggestion died on his lips as he provoked a sudden and spirited response from both his brother and his girlfriend.

"What, you mean undercover?" Dean asked incredulously, quickly considering all the implications of such a plan. The idea somehow made him feel incredibly uncomfortable, and not merely at the things Jo would see and hear of.

"No," Jo shook her head, standing up and beginning to pace the floor by the table, "No way. I… I can't do that, Sam. It just feels wrong, I can't go there and lie and…" Jo shook her head, "No."

"I know it's…." Sam began, holding his hands out in order to silence Jo, who continued to glare at him.

"Risky? Dangerous? Damn stupid?" Dean supplied before Jo could even begin to utter a single word in protestation.

"It's our only option right now."

Jo stared down at the floor and sank into her seat around the table, watching as Sam and Dean dissolved into an argument that centred around the reasons that Sam's idea was a bad one. Jo listened mute, before finally placing her fingers between her lips and whistling shrilly to capture their diverted attentions.

Sam and Dean simultaneously whirled around to face Jo, their mouths hanging slightly open as they faced her resolute expression.

"Ok," she growled grudgingly, "I'll do it. But I go in, I get the answers we need, and then I'm out of there."

"Totally," Sam agreed with a vehement nod as Dean stared at his brother askance.

"You have to be kidding me?" he snarled, massaging his brow as he realised that Jo intended to carry through the misguided idea.

"Dean, this is the only way," said Jo quietly, forcing Dean to face her as she cupped his chin in her hands, "whatever's committing these murders… well, it could only be a matter of time before it starts to turn on innocent people."

Dean shot a glance at Sam, who was leaning back in his chair wearing a pensive look that peaked Dean's interest.

"Spill, Sam," he instructed, "I know that look."

Sam glanced at Dean, starting as though he had been lost in his own thoughts.

"I think I know what we're dealing with," Sam said slowly, beginning to tap away at the laptop keyboard once again as both Dean and Jo crowded around the screen.

"Yeah, and what crackpot website are we referencing here?" Dean demanded, muttering under his breath as he glanced at the screen and the site that Sam had navigated to.

"The bible, actually," Sam informed him snootily, moving the mouse cursor and opening a picture of what looked to be a typical depiction of an angel. The figure was swathed in a red and gold toga, and possessed blonde ringlets piled up atop it's head. The features were beautifully chiselled, and Dean chuckled as he realised how different the image was to the angels they were used to dealing with in mere human vessels. However, despite this fact, the angel in the picture exhibited a beautiful pair of glistening black wings, and appeared to be clutching a silver dagger in it's hand.

"Avenging angels," Jo read, scanning the literature carefully, "so, nobody's necessarily invoking it, right?"

"Right," Sam agreed, "but we need to figure out how it's singling out it's victims, there's gotta be a link to Mrs. Cooper, we just need to figure out what."

"I don't like this," Dean shook his head, jamming his hands in his pockets as he groused irritably at the prospect of sending Jo in alone.

"I don't think I'm in any danger Dean," Jo placated, looping her arms around his neck as Sam cleared his throat and picked up the laptop, walking across the room toward the small kitchen area to allow them some small degree of privacy.

"And you've used me as bait before, remember?" she teased, smiling as she prompted a memory of the very first case they worked together - albeit unwillingly as far as Dean had been concerned.

"Yeah, well that was then…" Dean replied, in a tone that Jo could only construe as sulky.

"It's not gonna come after me, Dean," she stated with confidence, "and it's not like it'd have any reason to come after you. I know you'd never hurt me, so if you think about it, it'd have no business with me."

He sighed as if the very prospect was ludicrous, "That's not what I'm worried about Jo, and you know it."

"I know," she nodded, adopting a more serious tone as they embraced tightly. "Look, I'd rather not be doing this, but we don't have any other options right now. And we can't sit by and wait for an innocent person to get hurt."

Dean's jaw set in evident displeasure and he pulled her gently closer, "Just make sure that innocent person isn't you."


	12. Chapter 12

_**Authors' Note - We are no longer drunk. Thank you.**_

**Episode Four - Part Three**

'**Good Enough'**

**x-x-x**

Jo headed along the driveway with trepidation, her gym bag slung over her shoulder stuffed with nightwear and a change of clothing. She approached the sprawling mansion with her heart pounding against her ribcage, faster than it had done for a long while. There was something about the prospect of lying to Mrs. Cooper's face that filled Jo with a sense of dread and overwhelming guilt. For all intents and purposes, it seemed that Maureen Cooper was guilty of nothing more than providing shelter to some extremely vulnerable women when they needed it most. The idea of standing before her and effectively exploiting this seemed wrong to Jo, and she was eager to finish up the investigation as soon as possible.

Reaching out hesitantly, Jo stabbed the doorbell and waited for a response. Hearing the sound of footfalls headed in her direction, she slung her bag further up her shoulder and sucked in a calming breath.

"Yes dear?" The door opened slowly to reveal a tall, grey haired woman poised in the hall. Her eyes immediately swept Jo and she smiled expectantly, obviously used to the sight of strange women on her doorstep.

"Hi." Jo offered a weak smile in greeting. "I was just wondering if Ashley was here? Ashley Wilson?"

"No, I'm afraid she isn't," the woman replied, noting how Jo was nervously twisting a ring around her finger, "but can I help you?"

Jo opened her mouth and immediately closed it again, faltering for words and finding herself suddenly unable to relay the script that she had rehearsed with Dean earlier. Mrs. Cooper waited patiently and, when it seemed evident that Jo would offer no explanation for her appearance, she held the door wide open and stepped aside. Her kind smile ushered Jo into the hallway, and Mrs. Cooper closed the door behind her with a quiet click.

"Can I offer you a cup of tea…?" the woman inquired, allowing the question to tail off as she waited for Jo to supply her name. Deciding that she would perhaps feel more comfortable keeping her lies to a minimum, Jo said quietly, "Joanna… Jo."

Mrs. Cooper nodded and led Jo through the hallway towards an expansive lounge area, the walls of which were lined with brown leather sofas. She gesture for Jo to take a seat, and watched carefully but unobtrusively as she lowered herself onto the nearest sofa and settled her bag at her feet.

"Do you need a place to stay Jo?" Mrs. Cooper inquired, leaning on the doorway and affixing her with a look that managed to be simultaneously sympathetic and warm. Jo felt instantly ten times worse for what she was about to do and, even as she bobbed her head in a nod, she felt her cheeks burning ashamedly.

"Well then, welcome to my home, Jo. You stay here as long as you need to," Mrs. Cooper stated, pausing momentarily in the doorway as she bestowed her with a reassuring smile. "Now, how about that tea, huh?"

Jo nodded meekly, dropping her head into her hands and releasing a heavy sigh as she considered the lies she was about to tell, and the implications her actions might have on not merely Mrs. Cooper herself, but also the women she might help in future. The vibrating of her cell phone in her pocket wrenched her from her thoughts, and she dug out the cell and flipped it open, smiling momentarily at the message that greeted her. Hastily tapping a reply to Dean, Jo shoved her phone back into her pocket seconds before her host returned to the room.

"Here we are, dear." Placing a floral china cup on the table before Jo, the woman sat down opposite her and folded her hands in her lap, her gaze focused on her new guest. "We have just one rule here Jo. All I ask is that you don't communicate with your… partner," she said diplomatically. "We can't have anybody finding out where we are, and it's safer for all the girls this way. I'm sure you understand. I won't ask what happened to you, and you don't have to tell me anything- that's my promise to you. I just need you to promise me that you won't tell your…"

"Boyfriend," Jo supplied uneasily, an odd sense of betrayal overcoming her.

"Boyfriend," Mrs. Cooper echoed, "…where we are. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes ma'am," Jo nodded, attempting to muster a smile as she lifted the hot tea to her lips.

"Oh, ma'am makes me sound so old," Mrs. Cooper laughed softly as she took a sip from her own cup, "Maureen, please. Can I get you anything to eat, Jo? Or shall I just show you to your room?"

Jo paused, realising that she should probably begin some subtle questioning but unsure as to how best to go about it. Forcing a smile, she nodded and said quietly, "A sandwich would be good, if it's not too much trouble?"

Mrs. Cooper chuckled and shook her head as though the idea was absurd, and disappeared into the kitchen. The sound of china clinking against marble rang out clearly, and minutes later Maureen returned with a plate of sandwiches, and a stack of biscuits which she set down in front of Jo on the coffee table.

"How's that?" she inquired with a beaming smile that Jo quickly found infectious.

"Thank you," Jo said, lifting the nearest sandwich to her mouth and taking a demure bite. She chewed and swallowed before she added casually, "You have a really beautiful home, Maureen. Have you lived here long?"

Maureen leant back in her seat and crossed her legs, as she mulled over Jo's question, "A little over twenty five years. Probably as long as you've been alive, I should think," She smiled good naturedly. "Do you live in town, Jo? If you don't mind my asking."

"I… We just moved here," Jo stuttered, her appetite decreasing further with every passing second.

"I see," Maureen said with a nod, obviously having heard Jo's story before at least a hundred times, "do you have any family, sweetie?"

"No," Jo shook her head, relieved to at least be telling the truth this time.

"It's pretty awful what happened to those other women in town," she fished, witnessing a genuine frown of concern cross Maureen's lips.

"Yes, a truly terrible business," Maureen replied, staring into her cup as Jo cleared her throat and continued on with her questions.

"You've helped a lot of women, huh?"

"A few," the woman said with a smile, obviously belittling her own efforts and achievements over the years.

"Why? Why do you do it?" Jo asked quietly, genuinely curious as to why Maureen Cooper had given over her time, money and even her home to the plight of these women.

Maureen bristled slightly, and then nodded over toward a photograph perched on top of a nearby desk.

"I had a sister…" she relayed, her eyes visibly tearing as she added, "she died."

The implications surrounding the woman's death hung heavily in the air, and Jo found she could not tear her gaze from the picture of the two sisters, both grinning and entangled in each other's arms as they posed for the camera.

"I'm sorry," Jo whispered, pushing the plate away across the table, "I didn't mean to be rude. Maybe I should go…"

Jo reached for her bag and hugged it to her chest, offering Maureen an apologetic look as she climbed to her feet. The older woman was at her side in an instant, gently prying the bag from her grasp and firmly pushing Jo back into her seat.

"Don't you dare," she said with warmth, seating herself next to Jo on the couch and reaching for her own teacup. Her tone became somehow forcibly detached as she added, "What happened to Alice, my sister, was terrible and after my husband died a few years ago, I decided that I had the time and certainly the money to do something good with the rest of my life. I never wanted another woman to feel alone the way Alice had. That's just not acceptable to me."

Jo fell silent, deliberating over the woman's words and how they could possibly connect her to the crimes at hand. Certainly, Maureen Cooper seemed as disturbed by the recent murders as anyone else in town.

"Did he… her husband I mean, was he…" Jo stammered, unsure of how to proceed with the tentative query. Maureen nodded and, to Jo's surprise, her expression fleetingly become one of sorrow as opposed to the intense anger the hunter had anticipated.

"Life in prison," Maureen said softly, shaking her head as she added, "but not a single day of it will bring Ally back."

The two women sat in silence for a few moments, which was disturbed only when Jo's stomach emitted a loud and embarrassing rumble. She grinned sheepishly and Maureen chuckled before pushing the sandwich into Jo's lap.

"Can I ask you to do one thing, Jo?" Maureen suddenly asked, waiting until Jo had swallowed a bite of her sandwich, "don't go back to him."

"I…" Jo began, clearly flustered. The sound of a telephone ringing was a welcome distraction, and she watched with relief as Maureen rose from her seat and headed out toward the hall, excusing herself as she did so.

"Could I use your bathroom?" Jo asked, suddenly standing and following close behind.

"Upstairs, third door on the right," Maureen nodded, picking up the phone handset before stabbing the 'answer' button as the shrill ringing finally ceased.

Jo smiled in thanks, hurrying up the stairs and along the hall, before she located the bathroom and stepped inside. She glanced discretely toward the other rooms before she closed the door and locked it behind her.

Pulling out her cell phone, she dialled Dean's number from memory, unsurprised when he answered within seconds of the dial tone starting.

"Jo?" he demanded, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Jo hissed, keeping her voice to a minimum, "I'm in the bathroom. Look, I talked to Mrs. Cooper and I really don't think she did it."

"How can you be sure?" Dean's voice was strained, and his worry for Jo was palpable.

"I just am, Dean," she insisted in a whisper, "she wants to help these girls."

Dean fell silent as the moments passed, and Jo waited impatiently for a response, almost holding her breath as she strained to detect sounds of movement from outside the door.

"Well alright then," Dean finally replied, "just get out of there as soon as you can."

"No way," Jo hissed, shaking her head and blushing as she realised that Dean could not see her. "I'm staying. The link is here Dean, even if it isn't Mrs. Cooper."

"Jo!" Dean exclaimed, clearly growing irritated by his girlfriend's insistence. Rolling her eyes, Jo replied quickly, "Gotta go, think I hear someone."

She stabbed the disconnect button and then subsequently the power button, before slipping her phone back into her pocket. Checking her appearance in the mirror, Jo flushed the toilet, and then made her way back out into the hallway.

**x-x-x**

"Damn it, Jo!" Dean growled, the dial tone assaulting his ear as Jo abruptly ended their call.

"Dean, she's fine," Sam tried to assuage his brother's fears, wincing as Dean slammed his hand on the dashboard of the Impala and released a loud sigh of protest.

"You can shut your pie hole, genius," Dean pointed a finger at him in accusation, "this was all your idea, remember?"

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it as Dean glowered at him, "Dean, she's a grown woman…"

"One more word, Sammy, one more word," Dean warned, redialling Jo's number and releasing a frustrated groan as he was met with her voicemail message.

"Can we just focus on the case here?" Sam demanded, his own anger now rising at Dean's unfounded and yet escalating concern for Jo.

"Dean, seriously… Jo can take care of herself, you and I both know that," Sam tried to reason with him, watching as Dean nodded in unwilling agreement and leant back in the driver's seat, a grimace firmly in place across his lips.

Although he recognised the truth behind Sam's words, he was reluctant to acknowledge it. The brothers glared at each other for several seconds before Dean grudgingly broke the silence.

"So what do we know about this avenging angel," Dean asked, "are they like the regular, deuchebag angels, or what?"

Sam frowned and glanced out of the window towards the Cooper house, which for the moment seemed still and peaceful.

"Not quite," Sam said, his eyes never once wavering from the property as he attempted to discern which window belonged to which room. "From what I could tell, they listen to the prayers of the weak and needy, and extract vengeance where they see fit. Typically they punished men for their sins on God's behalf. They were part of a different order of angels that God granted corporeal form so that they could carry out his will."

"So Jo was right then. I mean, nobody has to be invoking this thing?" Dean asked, scratching his head and sighing at the further questions that this theory created.

"Not always, but it's still a possibility," Sam replied, glancing at Dean who was drumming his fingers on the dashboard in a show of his own nervousness.

"Find anything about their weapon of choice?" Dean barked. "The holy light-sabre of doom, or something?"

Sam smirked at Dean's quip and shook his head, "Not surprisingly, a flaming sword that can pierce the hearts of the unworthy, and the unrepentant."

"So, wait a minute," Dean said, scrunching his features up as he picked over Sam's words, "corporeal form means no innocent vessel to get in the way, and something solid to shoot at."

"I guess so," Sam answered uneasily, evaluating Dean with a glance, "but I doubt killing an angel would be that easy. Hell, I don't even know if it's possible."

"Sure it is," Dean said jovially, "I'll bet it's shiny, searing sword would get the job done."

"Maybe," Sam allowed, "but how are we gonna get it from them?"

"I don't know, hadn't thought that far ahead yet," Dean admitted, suddenly straightening up in his seat as he noted a figure emerging from the shadows.

Peering into the wing mirror, Dean narrowed his eyes as the man walked toward the Cooper house with his hands buried in his pockets. He cast a glance behind him and stalked toward the main gate. His movements were stilted and he was clearly nervous, looking constantly about the street as he walked.

"Huh, look at that. Well what do we have here?" Dean mused aloud. Content that nobody was watching, the man began to climb the iron railings, hauling himself over the barrier with obvious effort, and landing with an audible thud on the other side. From somewhere down the street, a dog barked.

"Is that…" Sam began, narrowing his eyes to get a better look as the man pulled something almost indistinguishable from the inside pocket of his jacket. He took a step forward and found himself cast beneath the light of a nearby street lamp.

"Son of a bitch," Dean reached instantly for the car door as the intruder raised the gun in his hand.

**x-x-x**

Maureen had shown Jo to a vacant guest bedroom that benefited from an en-suite bathroom and, after stealing a guilty bubble bath, Jo dressed in her pyjamas and made her way back downstairs to search out the woman. Whilst relaxing amidst the bubbles and the overpowering scent of lavender, Jo had found her mind racing with new questions to pose to her hostess in an effort to clear her name. Mrs. Cooper had been nothing but hospitable and warm towards Jo, and the hunter was eager to disprove the woman's involvement with the murders if at all possible.

Jo padded downstairs and made her way towards the library that she had glimpsed earlier. Pausing in the doorway, Jo found the woman kneeling in front of the window with her head bowed and her hands pressed together in a familiar poise. Although Jo stepped into the room, she maintained her silence, realising that she had disturbed the woman in the private vestiges of prayer. As Maureen uttered a few final words, Jo added her own quiet 'amen' and stepped further into the room. Maureen climbed stiffly to her feet and turned to affix Jo with a smile that the hunter found easy to return.

"I was just praying for the girls," Maureen explained, her tone affectionate as she added, "it's the very least I can offer them."

Jo's eyes were instantly drawn to the marble statue on the centre table, and she eyed it with obvious awe and considerable trepidation.

"That's beautiful," Jo remarked, both women's gazes now trained on the large, hand carved figure of a woman. Her arms were opened outwards and her facial features had been carefully carved into such a serene and beatific smile that Jo could not help but admire the piece.

The statue wore long robes that touched the ground chiselled beneath her feet and, in right hand, she clutched a string of rosary beads.

"Magnificent isn't she?" Maureen stated, smiling widely as she ran her fingertip over the arm of the statue, "an old friend of mine bought it in Italy last year and thought I might like it for my garden. But she's far too beautiful to be outside, so I brought her in here."

"Is she an angel?" Jo inquired, reaching out and stroking the tip of one finger across the brow of the statue. The marble was firm and cold to the touch, but Jo found herself brimming with an immediate sense of peace as her skin connected with it.

"I believe it's an image of St. Rita of Cascia," Maureen replied, pausing in order to wipe a smudge from the figure's robes with her index finger. "She dates back to the medieval period. Rita wanted to become a nun but she was married off to a man who abused her. Her husband eventually repented on his deathbed because of Rita's prayers for him, and her ability to forgive."

Jo frowned and Maureen chuckled, touching the hunter lightly on the arm. Her gaze befell old bruises beginning to yellow as they faded; bruises that Jo had undoubtedly acquired on some hunt or other. Maureen's eyes narrowed and Jo swallowed, aware of the conclusions that the woman had undoubtedly already reached.

Maureen shook her head and flashed Jo a pointed smile, "You're so young, you deserve so much better than this, Jo."

"I…" Jo began, suddenly staring out toward the hall as a man's angry cries echoed through the house. The glass in the window frames rattled as the front door became victim to a violent assault of flying fists and kicking legs.

"What in the world…" Maureen began, pausing as Jo stepped in front of her and held up a hand in warning.

"Stay here," Jo commanded, wandering out of the room toward the hall, picking up a heavy iron fire poker as she passed the fireplace.

Coming to a standstill in front of the door, Jo started suddenly as the intruder began yelling once again, "Jenna! Jenna! Get out here right now!"

"I'm calling 911!" Maureen shouted over the commotion, glancing up the stairs as a dark haired woman began to advance slowly down them.

"Mark?" the woman whispered, clutching the sides of her bathrobe around herself as she stood next to Maureen.

Jo turned to observe the women, seeming fragile and afraid in that one moment. Suddenly, she realised that their reality was so different from her own, that their very real fears were ones she had never even had to consider. The realisation brought with it not only a renewed sense of guilt but an odd sense of power; after all Jo had faced throughout her life, she was confident that if need be she could knock this asshole down a peg or two without even breaking a sweat.

"Mark?" the woman whispered, her tone coloured with disbelief as her face paled.

"Go back upstairs and stay in your room," Jo ordered, turning to the woman she assumed was Jenna. "He won't get in."

Jenna regarded Jo for several seconds, her bottom lip trembling as indecision washed over her and finally she nodded before turning on her heel to retreat to her room.

"Mrs. Cooper, call the police," Jo instructed, offering the woman a smile as she scurried towards the telephone.

Clasping the fire poker in her hand, Jo strode toward the door and stood on tip toes to peer through the window that was set high in the timber panel. She frowned in surprise as she found the doorstep vacant.

Her trepidation grew as heavy footfalls could be heard around the outside walls of the house. Within seconds the shattering of glass caught her attention, and Jo advanced with caution toward the library from where the sound had emanated.

"Jo! Jo, don't go in there. Wait for the police," Maureen pleaded urgently, suddenly scurrying close behind and placing her hand on Jo's shoulder.

"It's okay," Jo assured her, ushering the woman behind her and raising the poker like a baseball bat. There was a telltale creak of floorboards and then a voice carried through into the hall.

"Jenna! Where the hell are you?"

Jo continued to stand her ground, wielding the poker still in want of a more adequate weapon. She had left her handgun at the motel, and was now cursing that decision given the turn that events had taken in the last ten minutes.

"You're trespassing on private property," Jo called, her eyes narrowing to slits as she rounded the corner and stepped over the threshold into the library, where a bulky man stood in the midst of shattered glass.

"I don't give a damn." His eyes fixed upon Jo derisively and his lip curled into a sneer, "Where's my wife?"

"I don't think she wants to talk right now," Jo replied coldly, bristling as the man took a misguided step towards her. The muscles in Jo's arm tensed as she gripped the poker tighter, although she by no means needed to rely upon the weapon as her only means of protection.

"I want to talk to her!" he snarled, moving his arm from behind his back and holding out a shaking hand. The barrel of a gun was soon aimed in Jo's direction.

Swallowing down a breath, Jo searched his face quickly trying to ascertain his intent, "Put the gun down. You don't want to hurt anyone."

"I want to see my wife," he yelled, gesticulating wildly with the gun as his gaze darted around the room and out toward the direction of the stairs.

"The police are on their way," Maureen stammered, her head whipping around as further commotion began in the hallway.

"Get out of my way," the man growled, barrelling toward Jo and shoving her aside. Jo planted her hand against his chest and pushed back, deftly moving out of his reach as he swung a fist at her head.

"I have a right to see my wife…" he shouted, reaching out for Jo and managing to snag the fabric of her vest. He pulled the hunter towards him, momentarily startling her with his strength, and almost throwing her completely off balance. Jo threw one hand out and grasped the door frame for support. The action left her wide open for attack and Jo was unprepared when the man, seeing his opportunity, lunged forwards and delivered a punch to her jaw that sent a resounding crack echoing throughout the library.

The unmistakable taste of iron in her mouth caused Jo to wince and she tried to ignore the pain radiating from her jaw as she threw a punch at his face. The fountain of blood that resulted from her fist connecting with his nose brought Jo a brief sense of satisfaction, and she ducked to avoid another blow aimed in her direction.

Maureen cried out in terror as she watched the fight unfold, and she stumbled back against the bookcases as Jo slammed the man against the wall.

"You little bitch," Mark snarled, brushing the back of his hand against his lower lip as he wiped away a smear of blood.

Jo's attention was momentarily diverted as the pounding on the front door grew more urgent and with one loud resonating bang she recognised as a gunshot, the door splintered off its hinges.

"Jo?" Dean yelled, racing into the room with Sam hot on his heels only to witness the man redoubling his efforts and seizing Jo around the throat. They grappled for the gun as he attempted to restrain Jo, whose complexion was beginning to adopt a somewhat bluish tinge as her oxygen supply was limited.

"Hey! Get your hands off of her!" Dean bellowed, ignoring the terrified screams of Mrs. Cooper as he too withdrew a gun and took aim.

"I just want to talk to my wife…" Mark snarled, his eyes frantically sweeping the room as though he expected the woman he was searching for to materialise before him.

"I don't think so," Dean spat, motioning for Sam to move into a position parallel to his own. Jo choked as the fingers around her throat squeezed mercilessly at her flesh and, finally, she brought her knee up in a short, sharp gesture to connect with the man's groin. The gun fell from his grasp and Jo's right hand shot out instantly to catch it before it hit the ground.

Dean moved forwards as the man collapsed onto his knees, groaning and spluttering pathetically. Jo spun the gun around in her hand and stepped towards the table, when suddenly the lights in the library began to flicker ominously. The hunters and Mrs. Cooper simultaneously looked towards the ceiling, where the light buzzed and hummed as it flashed on and off. The walls of the room began to shudder and plaster fell from the ceiling in flakes as the vibrations continued to rip through the house.

"Oh my…" Mrs. Cooper whispered, her hand flying to her mouth as she was almost thrown off her feet by the force of the tremors.

"This can't be good," Sam remarked gravely, staring up toward the ceiling as the lights continued to flicker and sparks shot from the fixtures above.

Dean glared in blatant contempt at the man on the ground, watching as he attempted to pick himself up, expelling a long list of expletives at Jo.

"You shut your mouth," Dean snarled, waiting until the man had managed to draw himself up to his full height before he landed a punch to his jaw that sent him hurtling back down to the ground once again.

Appearing at Jo's side, Dean placed his hand against her cheek and tilted her head up to examine her injuries.

"Are you okay?" he checked, concern etched across his face as Jo winced when his thumb brushed her cheekbone. He frowned apologetically as she hissed at the contact and he drew her into his side as the lights suddenly died, and the small group was plunged into darkness.

"What's happening?" Mrs. Cooper hissed, her arms immediately moving to encircle her own body as she backed against the wall. Sam drew in a deep breath as a sudden brilliant light flashed from the centre of the library, illuminating a figure that stood unmoving in the centre.

Dean and Jo raised their arms in order to shield their eyes, but Sam found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the woman emerging from the light. Her hair bobbed about her shoulders in short dark waves, and her heart shaped face was inclined towards the hunters as she stepped into the library. Her features were twisted into an almost quizzical frown and as she walked forwards several paces, the light surrounding her waned before fading entirely.

"Dear God…" murmured Mrs. Cooper, her hand flying to her mouth as she surveyed the apparent angel, who was wearing nothing more extravagant than a pair of stonewashed jeans and a dainty floral print shirt. Her overall appearance was certainly one of serenity and peace, which was shattered only when she reached behind her back with one hand and withdrew a sword bearing a slim but wicked looking blade.

Taking a step toward the man who sat crouched in fear on the ground, she narrowed her eyes in fury and raised the blade above his head, ignoring the frightened screams of Mrs. Cooper, who was standing prostrate with fear in the doorway.

"Hi," Dean stepped forward uncertainly, waving his hands to attract the angel's attention as she stood poised to strike above her victim. "Look, I know he's a total ass-wipe and a pretty miserable excuse for a human being, but… we can't let you kill the moron."

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watched Jo as she ushered Mrs. Cooper to relative safety and checked the handgun she still held for bullets. Apparently, it had contained none and, after shooting an incredulous glare at Mark, Jo simply placed the useless weapon onto a shelf. A nod of understanding passed between the three hunters and Dean flicked the safety catch off his gun. Sam did likewise, and the pair of hunters aimed squarely at the angelic figure before them.

The angel rounded suddenly on Dean, a snarl evident on her lips as she stared him up and down.

"Do not get in my way," she warned, glancing over at Jo who was staring at Dean with poorly concealed concern. The angel peered between the couple with interest, cocking her head as her gaze flickered from Jo's eyes to his.

Her hand tensed around the handle of the blade and Jo shouted out in desperation, leaving Mrs. Cooper cowering behind an upturned table as she crossed the room to stand beside Dean.

The angel's expression remained impassive and she merely took in the scene before her; Jo clutched at Dean's arm and he in turn attempted to usher her behind him.

"You are pure of heart," the being stated, bestowing a curious nod upon Dean before she turned her attention to Mark.

"Well, I've been called some things…" Dean drawled, an amused smile flickering across his lips before he shook his head at the angel. "Hey, I know you think you're delivering cosmic justice or whatever…"

"This is her will," the angel answered, her tone almost reverent as she shot a glance at the statue that Mrs. Cooper had been poised before earlier. A smile curved upon the angel's lips and she bowed her head to the image before turning blazing eyes back upon her victim. By now, the man was sobbing somewhat hysterically, his bravado having well and truly dissipated in the face of the heavenly being whose wrath he had apparently incurred.

"St. Rita…" Maureen breathed, the thought only just occurring to her. "You're an avenging angel… you're the one whose been killing them."

"Justice has been done," the angel explained, although she looked upon the older woman with an almost favourable smile and a curt nod.

"But… but that's not what I prayed for," she protested, "I asked for them to receive help and guidance… protection."

"Is that not what I have done?" the angel argued, clearly confused by Maureen's objection. "Justice was served as it shall be again."

"Hey, look… we all want justice for this scumbag, okay? But we were thinking more along the lines of a federal penitentiary and a cellmate named Big Moe, not… total evisceration." Dean stated, his objection ever so slightly more half-hearted than usual.

Mark nodded his agreement; despite the latter half of Dean's protest, incarceration seemed a far better option.

"Please, listen to him… please, please don't hurt me," he begged, holding his hands up in front of his face as he visibly trembled. Jo regarded him with a disgusted sneer forming on her lips. She found it difficult to argue his case when she deemed him so entirely unworthy of saving. However, she knew that whilst he had not earned their desire to protect him, they could not allow him to die.

"Hey, nobody's on your side here, asshole," Dean informed him without turning his attention from the angel, who appeared non-plussed.

"Stand aside, I do not wish to harm you," the angel said, ignoring the guns trained upon her as she began to raise her arm, sword at the ready. Mark cried out in horror. As the angel swung the sword downward, the sound of gunfire rang out across the room, and a trickle of blood began to pool from her shoulder. It dripped steadily down her arm onto the floor below.

The angel peered down in surprise at the wound but made no move to lower her weapon. Instead, her eyes narrowed and she turned her stare upon Sam, who had been the one to fire the shot. For a few moments, the angel regarded him in silence, and then in a cold tone, she hissed, "You have done wrong."

Sam blinked in surprise, exchanging glances with Dean as the angel approached the younger Winchester with her sword brandished. With an enraged cry, she swung the blade above her head and it sailed through the air toward Sam. The hunter leapt to one side as the sword whistled past his ear, narrowly missing clipping his upper lobe.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Dean yelled out, struggling to aim accurately at the angel. However, as she and Sam spun in circles, each attempting to make contact with the other's body, Dean found himself unable to get a clear shot.

"Please, stop…" Mrs. Cooper called, sobs rising in her throat as she watched the angel in her deadly intent slice a long gash in the side of Sam's arm. His gun clattered from his fingers and with a flick of her head, the angel tossed Sam clear across the room without even laying a finger upon him. Sam's body connected with a bookshelf before he tumbled to the floor with a heap of books landing atop him. The hunter rolled onto his stomach and groaned, spitting out a trickle of blood as a consequence of having bitten down on his tongue.

"He must be stopped," the angel continued, shooting Sam a pointed glare, "he has raised his hand to a woman."

"What?" Dean demanded, his features contorting in confusion. The angel bestowed a brief glance upon him before flicking her gaze back to Sam and taking a step forwards.

Searching out Jo's face, the angel nodded at her solemnly, "He has hurt you. He will not be allowed do so again."

"What?" Jo's eyes widened in shock, and she whirled around to face the fallen hunter, who stared back at her with equal surprise, "No! Stop!"

"Someone wanna clue me in on what the hell she's talking about?" Dean yelled, rushing to his brother's aide as he shot his girlfriend a slightly uncertain, expectant frown.

"I don't know," Jo shouted back incredulously, reaching Sam's side ahead of Dean moments before the angel redoubled her efforts and swung at him with the sword.

The angel froze as Jo stepped in front of the younger Winchester, her eyes glaring up at the being as she stated firmly, "Leave him alone. Sam would never hurt me!"

"Duluth," Sam coughed, wiping blood from his lip as he looked up at Jo with an expression of guilt and embarrassment.

"Dulu…" Jo attempted to breathe the word but trailed off the last syllable as realisation hit her with the force of a freight train .

She exchanged glances with Sam, who flashed her a shaky smile that caused the angel to bristle.

"No, that wasn't Sam," Jo protested, "he was possessed."

"It was your hand?" the angel demanded, eyes narrowed as they focused coldly upon Sam's face. Unable to deny that one fact, Sam nodded and the angel moved forward, hefting her weapon.

"No!" Jo cried out, planting her hands on her hips as she moved to stand directly in front of Sam, who appeared oddly calm about his impending fate. Dean watched the scene play out, his gun trained upon the angel as his mind raced to formulate some strategy that would help his brother.

The angel cocked her head and her brows knitted together as she surveyed Jo in confusion. She seemed to feel in some way that her own personal brand of justice was deserved, and would undoubtedly be looked upon by the women she sought to serve as the same.

"I am growing tired of this," the angel snapped, her up until now restrained temper beginning to fray. She glanced down at her sword and her lips pinched into a tight line as though she physically ached to ram the blade to the hilt in its next intended victim.

"Please…" Jo begged, her hands flying to her mouth as with a slight tilt of her head, the angel raised Sam's body to the ceiling and then dropped him once again to the floor. Sam cried out in pain, and Jo was almost certain that there had been an audible crack. Dean fired another round, this time into the angel's stomach, but she stood her ground and instead batted Dean to one side with a faint twitch of her arm. Dean hit the opposing wall at speed and as his head connected with the plaster; his eyelids dropped closed like lead weights and he tumbled to the floor. Jo resisted the urge to run to him, sighing in relief as she watched Mrs. Cooper cross the room in several strides and crouch down by Dean's side.

"You can't do this," Jo said firmly, throwing herself in the angel's path again, "I don't want retribution. What he did wasn't his fault. It's the past."

"You were here when the prayer was sent," the angel answered as though her words should explain everything, and their finality merely be accepted by all present. "You have been wronged by this man, and now…"

"No!" Jo yelled, brown eyes narrowing to slits as she felt herself rapidly losing check of her own temper in the face of the relentless angel. "What the hell do I have to say to make you realise?"

There was a moment of silence, and then Mrs. Cooper spoke up from her position at Dean's side.

Her voice shook terribly, but she called out to Jo nonetheless, "St. Rita… she forgave her husband, and his soul was spared."

Jo's head whipped back around to the angel, who was by now standing over Sam with one foot planted square in the centre of his chest.

"Is that it?" she demanded, striding forwards and grasping the angel by the arm. "Is that what I have to do?"

Despite Jo's strong grip on her forearm, which should have restrained any mortal being effectively, the angel raised her sword above her head and, as the blade began to glow with brilliance, prepared to bring it home to it's target; Sam's heart.

"I forgive him!" Jo shouted, her eyes growing wide as the sword descended to strike and Sam's complexion grew ashen. The angel abruptly halted, the blade quivering as it stood a mere centimetre from Sam's body.

"I forgive him," Jo repeated, breathing raggedly as the angel turned to regard her, "for Duluth. I know it wasn't Sam, and I know he's sorry for what he did."

"Forgiveness?" The angel tested the word as though it were deplorable, but she lowered the sword to her side and took a step backwards from Sam, who immediately rolled onto his side and began to splutter.

"That does not change my work here for the others," the angel said quickly, her gaze coming to rest upon Mark, who had been pressed against the far wall for the duration of the confrontation. Now, he let out a squeak and squeezed his eyes shut, beginning to cry as he feared the worst.

"But if I'm right, this does."

With the words spoken, Mrs. Cooper raised the statue of the saint above her head and loosed her grip, allowing the marble figure to strike the wood floor where it shattered into numerous pieces. The angel sniffed, and shot Maureen a glance.

"I called you," Mrs. Cooper stammered, clearly fearful, "I never meant for any of this to happen. I was just praying for all the girls to be safe and instead… I caused all of this. But I know she wouldn't want this."

The woman's eyes befell the fragments of the statue, and the angel's gaze rested upon the pieces thoughtfully.

"She forgave, and so should I," Maureen said quietly, her smile wan and tired as she glanced at Jo. "I need to forgive the man who took my sister's life. I need to let go of my anger, because it's destroying me, and now it's destroying other people too."

Jo offered the woman an encouraging smile, which she met with a nod.

"I forgive him," she whispered finally, tears welling at the corners of her eyes and beginning to trickle down her weathered cheeks. "Now please, go."

The angel cast a final gaze around the room, before bowing her head indifferently and disappearing in a blinding flash of light.

Mrs. Cooper slumped down the wall, her hand pressed against her chest as she fought to regain her breath and surveyed the scene of chaos around her. Mark scrambled to his feet, about to make a break for the doorway when a strong hand gripped his collar and hauled him unceremoniously back into the room.

He swallowed as he saw Dean standing behind him, noting the fury written all over his features.

"You hit my girlfriend," Dean stated, rather than questioned, shoving Mark back against the wall.

"I… I…" Mark stammered, his eyes flitting to the doorway where Jenna stood watching, her arms hugged around herself.

"You're a piece of work, you know that?" Dean demanded, shoving his elbow against Mark's throat and cocking his head as the sound of sirens could be heard clearly approaching. "And you're going down for a long, long time."

Jo reached down a helping hand and grunted as she hauled Sam to his feet, where he leaned upon her shoulder heavily. He seemed to be swaying and his face was creased with pain, but at a glance Jo could not locate any serious injuries.

"Let's get you back to the motel," she suggested, staggering under Sam's considerable weight as they took an experimental step towards the door.

"Hey… Jo…?" Sam rasped, affixing the one eye that had not begun to swell closed upon the blonde hunter. His lips twisted into a pained yet affectionate smile, "Thanks."

"Save it for later, Sammy," Jo instructed, almost slipping on the polished floorboards as she stepped in a trickle of Sam's blood.

"No, really…" he insisted, "thank you. I know I don't exactly deserve forgiveness…"

Jo made a disgusted noise deep in her throat and shot Sam a withering glare that silenced him in a second.

"You're delusional," she replied kindly, "Duluth- that was never you, and I knew it all along."

"Really?" he queried, both his tone and the expression dubious. Jo nodded.

"Of course," she answered, impish grin affixed in place, "I only let you tie me to that pole for authenticity. I had to let the demon believe it was in control. If Dean hadn't arrived, I'd have been free any second, and kicking it's ass into the next century."

"Uh huh…" Sam breathed, hissing as inhaling brought with it a fresh wave of pain.

"Better believe it buddy," Jo said, her eyes sparkling as she half dragged Sam over to his brother and together the three hunters beat a hasty retreat to the Impala before the first cop car squealed into the driveway.

**x-x-x**

"Ow!" Jo winced, attempting to dodge the icepack currently being wielded in her direction as she lay across the bed, her head resting in Dean's lap.

"Would you quit moving?" he demanded, his tone exasperated but not unkind as he tried to replace the ice against her throbbing and bruised jaw.

"It hurts," she protested sulkily as Dean lowered it back against her skin before he ran his fingers through her hair in a placating gesture. Jo closed her eyes and tried to ignore the dull ache niggling at her jaw, concentrating instead on the feel of Dean's fingertips against her scalp.

"Jo, can I ask you something?" Dean began, tracing his finger down the bridge of her nose and then across her uninjured cheek.

"Sure," she shrugged, opening her eyes uneasily at his tone of voice. Dean avoided her gaze and busied himself with carefully repositioning the ice pack.

"The whole Duluth thing," he said uncomfortably, "did you mean what you said before?"

Jo paused momentarily, opening her mouth as though to reply and then closing it again with haste.

"I guess it took me a while to get over it," she confessed, with a small shrug, "but I've always known it wasn't Sam saying those things to me."

"What exactly did he…?" Dean began, still somewhat uncertain as to what exactly had transpired when the demon had taken Jo hostage in order to spite him. Jo shook her head, and although her smile was a little sad, it was undeniably genuine.

"Nothing that matters anymore, Dean," she said, her conviction obvious, "just words."

Seeming satisfied, Dean nodded. After a moment of silence had elapsed, Jo spoke again.

"I forgave him a while ago," she stated, "but I know he's never forgiven himself."

"That's something Sam's always had a tough time with," Dean admitted, frowning as he thought about Sam's recent relapse into his grief for Jess, and how he had to this day been unable to view her death as anything other than his fault.

"You think he'll be ok?" Jo asked quietly, laying still now and allowing Dean to hold the icepack against her skin. She swept her fingertips across the back of his hand and kept her eyes trained on his face. Dean's brow furrowed and a dark cloud of uncertainty passed over his features.

Dean, did not reply.

**x-x-x**

In the quiet darkness of his own motel room, Sam sat upright on the edge of his bed. His entire body ached and throbbed with the beating of his heart, but Sam ignored his discomfort, seemingly cut off from it by his own unyielding thoughts.

In his hand, Sam clutched a well worn photograph that, unknown to even his brother, had been concealed inside his wallet for almost eight years now.

Sam knew the features that stared back at him like he knew every scar and nick that lined the back of his own hand. The smiling face that held his gaze was imprinted on his mind, and his heart.

Sam Winchester stroked the tip of his index finger over the image, and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

**The End**

**(Next Episode 'Black Eyed Dog')**


	13. Chapter 13

_**Authors' Note – Thanks for all the reviews so far guys, and please don't forget to check out the link to Junkin' For Joplin on either of our profile pages. **_

_**Episode Five – Part One**_

'_**Black Eyed Dog'**_

**x-x-x**

_**Pleasantville, Iowa**_

_**June 30**__**th**__** 2011**_

It had been apparent to Dean from the very beginning that they were on a fool's errand and so, when a series of supposedly unexplained phantom attacks in a small community had proven to be the work of a group of irate racoons protecting their young, he had hardly been surprised. In fact, quite the contrary, Dean had found himself almost relieved that their latest hunt was a bust for one reason in particular; something big was coming.

Over his years as a hunter, Dean had quickly learned to anticipate trouble and, in fact, his ability to forecast it had become like a well-honed sixth sense. Dean was as certain as he could be that soon the relative tranquillity would be shattered by something unwelcome, and undoubtedly nasty. Therefore, whilst Sam and Jo griped and shared their annoyance upon finding the 'haunted house' plagued by overgrown rodents, Dean fell silent and sipped his beer in contemplation. The air around buzzed with electricity, and Dean knew that whatever had his spider-senses tingling loomed not far on the horizon.

As Dean sat stewing over his thoughts, Jo and Sam had decided to seek entertainment in other forms. It had become almost a game between the two whenever they visited a bar, roadhouse or other suitable venue to hustle the regulars with an act that had become well-practiced. Sam, playing the concerned big brother, would watch over Jo as she flirted and breezed her way through a drunken routine that invariably ended with her conning her opponents out of their hard earned pay. Whilst Jo undertook the majority of the figurative leg work, utilising her significant pool skills in the process, Sam looked on to ward off any wandering hands or disgruntled losers.

The wad of dollar bills now jammed in Jo's pocket was building by the minute, and Dean could not help but smile at the ease with which she drew the local bar flies under her spell. Feeling his gaze upon her, Jo flashed him a mischievous grin and he responded immediately with a wink. Returning her attention to the game, Jo turned her head, blonde curls bobbing with the motion and, as she leant provocatively over the table to sink the final ball all eyes were drawn in her direction.

A quiet chuckle left Dean's lips as he placed his beer back down onto the bar and watched Sam claim the remainder of their winnings. Then, he steered the stone cold sober, yet stumbling, apparently inebriated hunter back over toward Dean.

With the slightly irritated patrons all watching the trio intently, Jo staggered into Dean's arms, grinning against his neck as he wrapped his arms around her to apparently hold her up.

"They still watching?" she whispered, glancing up at him questioningly as his hands slid down her waist. They settled firmly on her rear and she rolled her eyes in disdain.

"I'm just playing along, sweetheart," he explained with a smirk, keeping half a watchful eye on the guys still gathered around the pool table.

Sam picked up his bottle from the bar and took a large gulp of his beer as he watched the locals begin to amble away from tables, their attentions now diverted from the three strangers as a group of college girls burst through the door.

"Coast is clear," Sam relayed with obvious relief, realising that one day their hustling routine might provoke trouble, no matter how convincing Jo could be.

"Guys?" he tried again, noting with an amused smile that Jo and his brother had somehow managed to become entangled in a heated clinch. "Uh, guys... everyone's looking over here."

Sam's face blushed crimson and he cleared his throat to gather their attention, a ploy which eventually forced them apart. A similar blush crept up the apple of Jo's cheeks as Dean paused to whisper in her ear, and she merely nodded in happy agreement. Her eyes visibly darkened as she listened to his proposition. With a self-satisfied grin, Dean pressed a final kiss to her lips and released her from his embrace

Handing Jo a beer, Sam waited until she was extracted from Dean's arms before he clinked his bottle against hers and smiled.

"Another Oscar winning performance," he allowed, always amused by the effect Jo's 'wide eyed and innocent' routine had on the less-cerebral of the male population.

Jo beamed back up at him and took a celebratory sip of beer. "Two hundred and seventy-five dollars," she stated, holding up the roll of bills and shrugging, "should cover the motel rooms and a tank of gas."

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Sam asked, impressed and yet also baffled by her hustling skills, especially given the ever watchful maternal presence he knew Ellen Harvelle had been.

Jo shrugged and ran her fingertip over the rim of the bottle, "You saw where I grew up, right?"

"I can't exactly imagine your Mom condoning you stealing money off her customers," Sam replied, sitting down on the nearest bar stool and beginning to peel the label off his beer bottle. Jo snorted with laughter.

"Are you kidding me?" she demanded, peering askance at Sam, "I learned from the best. Mom and Dad used to play the same routine way back before I was born. How'd you think they raised the down payment on the Roadhouse?"

Sam stared at Jo in surprise before his expression melted away to one of honest amusement and he broke down into laughter. Dean, however, failed to join them in their mirth, continuing to stare off into the distance as though he had not even heard most of the conversation.

"Earth to Dean?" Jo widened her eyes suspiciously, having realised a good few minutes ago that Dean's mind was elsewhere. Dean had most definitely not been himself over the last few days, and whilst his current mood swings were annoying, Jo also found it strangely unnerving; despite her best efforts, he was beginning to make her feel antsy too.

"Huh?" Dean shook his head, placing his bottle down on the bar as he was met with a decidedly unimpressed pair of brown eyes.

Jo sighed and shook her head in exasperation, sidling up beside him and leaning back against the bar as she surveyed the other patrons. Dean followed the path of her gaze, his annoyance peaking as he spotted an older guy leaning against a post who was gazing intently at Jo.

"Keep staring dumbass," Dean groused, glaring across the room at the man, who was clearly too drunk to interpret Dean's angry and territorial stare.

Jo snatched up his beer bottle from the bar and took a slow sip, before perching on the stool beside Dean and propping her chin on her hand. "Maybe I'll go say 'Hi'. He has been paying more attention to me tonight."

Dean smiled at her jibe, standing from his perch with a repentant sigh. Placing his hands on her waist, he gently turned her to face him and stood between her knees.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, realising he had awoken in an uncharacteristically grumpy mood that morning - a mood which had yet to lift. "I don't know what's with me today, I just..."

"Yeah, yeah. Save it, Winchester," Jo interrupted, smiling despite herself as he pulled her closer, curling his hands around her thighs.

"I'll be right back," he nodded over toward the men's room and dropped a kiss against her lips, "and then I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"You bet your ass you will," she nodded in ready agreement, accepting another brief kiss before she watched him walk across the bar with her beer bottle poised at her lips.

The facilities were of a definitively higher standard than Dean had expected from the state of the outer bar, and so he took a moment to simply savour the faint odour of a fresh urinal cake, and a definite abundance of bleach. Thankful that the bathroom was deserted, Dean made his way quickly over to the far wall, unzipped his pants, and wasted little time in getting down to business.

When a hand clamped down onto his shoulder, Dean let out a startled yelp, and his attention was diverted so quickly from the task at hand that a yellow puddle on the floor was the resulting factor. Cursing, Dean zipped up his fly and turned to regard the unrepentant angel who stood at his side wearing a frown.

"Dean," Castiel observed in his usual grave tone that was not only reserved for end of the world scenarios, but also anything from ordering coffee to answering his cell phone.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed, his fingers curling impulsively into fists as he resisted the urge to deck the angel. "Guys don't sneak up on other guys with their pants down, Cas."

"You must return to Carthage," Castiel stated, without so much as blinking.

Dean shook his head as if he had misheard and he busied himself with washing his hands, drying them haphazardly on the leg of his pants.

A few moments later, Castiel's words finally penetrated his brain and Dean spun around to regard him in a combination of fear and dread. He found words failing him.

"You must return to Carthage," Castiel repeated, not even flinching as Dean began to advance upon him.

"Are you out of your mind?" Dean began, clearly not comprehending how Castiel could suggest such a thing given the events that had unfolded there a little under a year ago.

"There is unfinished business that must be attended to. You must leave at once." Cas explained cryptically, pausing as Dean grabbed the sleeve of his coat and began hauling him unceremoniously from the bathroom out into the hallway.

"We're not going back to Carthage," Dean stated, leaving no room for opposition, "there's no way I'm asking Jo to go back there, and what the hell was unfinished? Lucifer's back in his box, game over. "

Dean licked his lips nervously almost afraid of the information he knew Castiel was seconds away from imparting. Suddenly his sense of impending doom was starting to make sense.

"Good evening, Jo," Castiel greeted her with a brief smile as Dean dragged him past the bemused hunter and led him outside the bar.

"Dean!" Jo called, jumping down from the stool and gathering her jacket before stalking after her boyfriend and the angel, who had disappeared outside with the slamming of the bar door. Sam downed the last of his beer and hurriedly followed.

"No way, no how," Dean thundered, his eyes blazing and his lip curling as he regarded Cas, who appeared to be keeping his cool rather impressively. Dean continued to rant and rail, tossing expletives and growls at the angel who made no move to retaliate. After a minute had elapsed, Jo was at Dean's side, watching him through wide eyes as he paced the parking lot and suddenly lashed out with a fist, connecting with the bonnet of his beloved Impala. Jo released an audible gasp but Dean failed to react.

Instead, he rounded on Castiel and, to Jo's shock and amazement, Dean swung his arm back in a wide arc and slugged the angel on the jaw. Castiel stood unmoving and unblinking whilst Jo rushed forwards several paces.

"What the hell Dean?" she demanded, her voice rising in a betrayal of her unease and disbelief at Dean's actions.

"Jo, go back inside," Dean yelled, sighing as a vaguely hurt expression crossed Jo's face. Sam appeared at her side, and Dean groaned inwardly as he realised that he now had an audience.

"Not whilst you're acting like a crazy person," she argued, stepping in between Dean and Castiel and placing her hand firmly in the centre of Dean's chest.

Castiel dabbed at his lip with the back of his hand, frowning with minimal concern as a bright crimson stain smeared his skin.

"People are dying Dean..." his tone was becoming gradually more impassioned.

"And?" Dean demanded, already sensing he was not going to like the answer to his question.

"Dean..." Sam said quietly, shock registering in his tone from Dean's harsh rebuttal that was so uncharacteristic. The younger Winchester turned to Cas, his gaze probing. "What's going on?"

"Hellhounds," Castiel said quietly, diverting his gaze from the hunters. Dean acknowledged the slight air of discomfort the angel bore as Jo visibly paled before them, and he felt his own stomach lunge in trepidation. Castiel continued, "We believe one may have survived the explosion... there have been several attacks over the last month. First it was livestock and family pets, but over the past week three people have been killed."

"There are other hunters, Cas," Dean argued, not understanding why it had to be up to them to halt the hellhound's murderous rampage.

"We believe it is being controlled by someone. Someone supernatural," he relayed, sighing in obvious irritation as he added, "we also believe that something has been sent to retrieve it."

"Something?" Sam repeated, his eyes widening in understanding, "a demon?"

Dean's jaw set and he folded his arms across his chest as the events of Carthage flashed unbidden through his mind, along with the face of one particular figure who had been instrumental in their near demise.

"Meg?" he demanded, one eyebrow arched as he awaited an answer. Castiel shifted his weight from one foot to the other and Dean noted how human the angel suddenly appeared as he stood before them wearing his unease for all to see. He remained unmoved however, his concern reserved for his family only.

"How the hell can you ask us to do this, Cas?" Dean raged, his hands shaking as he jammed them into the pockets of his jeans and scowled. Sam shot a discreet glance towards Jo, who had stood in total silence since the revelation, looking for all the world as though she may throw up at any given moment.

"These are my orders," Castiel explained, and he sounded almost apologetic. "Heaven believes you are the best hunters for the job, and in this case the best is what we require."

"No," Dean repeated, spitting the word through clenched teeth. He took a step towards the angel and Sam's arm shot forward, grasping his brother's sleeve to prevent him from reacting further.

"Dean, calm down," Sam warned, his fingers gripping the fabric of Dean's jacket relentlessly.

"The hell I will," Dean bit back. He jabbed a finger in Castiel's direction as he added, "He deserts us for months on end right after leaving us to clean up heaven's mess, then suddenly he turns up in some bar bathroom and commands us to go muzzle a hellhound? I don't think so. You must be stupider than you look, Cas."

"Dean..." Sam chided, his own irritation mounting by the second as he watched Castiel stand erect and cross his own arms in an almost identical mirror of Dean's earlier defiant pose.

"You will do as we ask," Castiel said simply, before adding in a level tone, "or I can no longer be of aid to you in the coming battle. I am sorry, but if you turn your back on heaven now, you can only expect us to do the same."

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but the sudden fluttering of wings alerted them to the fact that Cas had taken leave before they even realised that he was no longer standing before them. The parking lot was deserted now save for the three silent and shell shocked hunters, who stood around in a small circle as Castiel's words played through their respective minds again and again.

"We're not going," Dean finally growled after several moments had elapsed. Sam turned to stare at his brother, both eyebrows raised and his mouth hanging slightly open.

"But he said..." Sam began, almost reeling backwards as Dean rounded on him.

"What? That he won't hold our hands and wipe our noses for us anymore?" snarled Dean, fury, terror and uncertainty passing in rapid succession across his features. He seemed to be struggling to control his breathing, and could almost hear his own pulse thumping in his ears.

Dean added in a more subdued tone, "We've gotten by just fine without them the last few months, Sammy. He left us high and dry after we won their fight and shoved Lucifer back in the pit."

"You don't know that," Sam countered, his own voice growing desperate, "the Lord works in mysterious ways... we know angel's do too..."

"I swear, if you say that one more time Sammy, I will beat you down," Dean growled, bitter amusement twisting his lips into a half grimace, half smirk. Sam opened his mouth to reply, a sardonic response ready on his tongue, when his attention was suddenly drawn to his side where only minutes ago Jo had stood. She was now gone, and the spot entirely vacant.

"Uh, where'd Jo go?" Sam demanded, concern clouding his features as he looked to Dean.

"Stay here," Dean directed, stalking off back toward the bar. He narrowed his eyes as he searched through the darkness for Jo. His relief was instant as he found her standing by the Impala, her arms resting on the roof of the car as she stood gazing up at the stars.

"Jo?" he called out softly to her, sighing as she turned to face him and swiped at the tears that tripped her cheeks.

"Are we leaving tonight?" she sniffed, attempting a facade that Dean saw through instantly. He took a step toward her and pulled her into his arms, her damp cheek pressing against his.

"No," Dean stated firmly, trying to contain the anger he felt toward Cas as he felt Jo's arms wrap so tightly around him that it almost hurt to breathe, "we're not going. I told Cas straight up, he can find some other chump. We're not going back, no way, no how."

Jo nodded miserably, lifting her head from his chest as she mulled over Castiel's words, "But people are dying, Dean. We don't have any other choice."

"There are plenty of other hunters out there, Jo. I'm through jumping every time heaven snaps their fingers. They screwed us over one too many times already. If that is a hellhound, you know as well as I do that it'd zero in on us as soon as we crossed the state line," Dean said emphatically, combing his fingers through her hair as he gently laid her head to rest against his shoulder.

She murmured in agreement, knowing that given their brush with the beast before the explosion, it would have the scent of all three hunters and would waste no time in attacking. Yet she also knew that innocent people were dying and she would be the first to admit that the knowledge that the creature had been involved in her mother's death left her not only reeling, but also thirsting for revenge.

"It's alive because we screwed up, Dean," she replied miserably, "it's up to us to stop it."

Dean held her at arm's length, peering down at her as if she was on the verge of losing her mind.

"We're not going back there," his tone betrayed his fear as he continued softly, "that thing got a taste of your blood... who do you think it's gonna go after first?" He held her gaze desperately, willing her to see sense, "I'm not gonna lose you, Jo."

"You think I want to go back there, Dean?" She laughed without humour and blinked as fresh tears welled in her eyes. "Of course I don't. But we have to. _I_ have to... for my Mom."

Dean shook his head, understanding her need for closure, yet finding his fear at the prospect of her returning to Carthage overpowering. He only had to close his eyes to see the beast's claws tear through her flesh, the smell of her blood overcoming his senses as he carried her into the hardware store, terrified that this was the end; that the only woman he had ever considered building a future with lay dying in his arms.

"Sam and I will go," he suggested, his voice cracking with desperation, "go back to the roadhouse, we'll go and..."

"No, Dean," she insisted, wondering why he had not considered her own concern for him, "I'm not letting you go there alone."

"Jo... don't make me beg here," Dean implored, his hands now cupping her cheeks as he brushed his thumbs over her skin.

Jo gnawed on her bottom lip so fiercely that two spots of blood began to bloom there. She appeared not to recognise the faint burn of pain though, as she continued to gaze up at Dean. Her heart pounded against her ribcage and a familiar fear prickled at her consciousness, but Jo was firm in her resolve.

"You're not going alone," she replied, striving to inject strength into her voice. Her efforts appeared to pay off and Dean blinked in both surprise and horror as he realised that Jo would not back down from this fight.

"You can't..." he began, his voice rising in pitch and volume as his pleading took on a far more forceful nature. Jo silenced him with a single look that managed in the same moment to both communicate her pain, and also her fury. Vengeance was an emotion that Dean understood perhaps far better than any other; it had after all been the one to shape his entire life from the moment that his mother had died at the hands of Azazel. Dean had watched the ever-burning need for revenge consume his father as he had grown from a boy to a man all too quickly, and he had witnessed just how destructive a prospect it could be. He would not allow it to be Jo's demise, the way it had undoubtedly been his father's.

"I am going to Carthage," Jo said quietly, her voice almost catching on the last word, "with or without you."

Realising that there would be no talking her out of what Dean considered to be a suicide mission, he nodded his head slowly in acceptance, "Fine. But we go together."

"Okay," she replied quietly, closing her eyes and sighing as she felt his hand sweep across her cheek and through her hair, coming to rest on the back of her neck. Dean guided her head towards his lips and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Just so we're clear on this," Dean began, gathering her up into his arms as if he were afraid to let go, "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Jo made an attempt at arguing against his vow, but soon found his fingertips pressed against her lips. He lowered his voice as he appeared to struggle for words, searching out her eyes uncertainly.

"You're the only good thing in my life, you know that?" He averted his gaze, exhaling slowly as her fingertips drifted over the back of his neck in a soothing gesture. "So I'll be damned if I'll ever let anything or anyone take you away from me. Okay?"

"Okay," she echoed, feeling a blush rise up her cheeks at the intensity of his gaze.

"Maybe someday you'll realise that I worry about you, just as much," Jo replied.

He smiled faintly, reaching down and grasping her hand as he considered her words. Dean knew that her fears were perhaps identical to his own; it was par the course for dating a hunter, and partly the reason that so many of their counterparts were single or separated from their spouses. Fear and uncertainty were constants in their world; a fact that was unavoidable, and something that had to be accepted for a relationship to work.

Dean glanced across the parking lot as from the corner of his eye he saw Sam ambling towards the Impala with his hands jammed in his pockets and his expression somewhat guilty. As he approached, he wasted little time in voicing the thoughts currently plaguing his mind.

"Dean, man, I'm sorry," Sam stammered, the fearful expression spread across his brother's face alarming him, "I should never have sided with... well, I'm sorry."

"It's ok, Sammy," Dean said, his sigh weary as his gaze ticked to Sam for the briefest of moments before coming back to rest on Jo.

"I was thinking, if you guys... well, I could go," Sam offered, his tone somewhat hopeful, "we wouldn't technically be breaking the rules, and then..."

"If one of us goes, we all go," Dean answered without missing a beat, not even glancing at Sam since his voice rang with the finality needed to convey his point. Sam nodded, then realising that Dean had not looked his way again, uttered a quiet murmur of agreement.

Glumly, the three hunters climbed into the Impala, and set out towards their motel to begin gathering their bags in preparation for the lengthy trip ahead.

That night, as Sam and Dean took turns in driving, Jo did not sleep a wink. Instead, she lay across the backseat of the Impala, eyes screwed tightly closed in a half convincing charade, and she thought of nothing but an abandoned hardware store and the unearthly snarls of hell's black eyed dogs.

**x-x-x**

Having decided to stay in a motel in the neighbouring town, the hunters found themselves some five hours later, checking into the ironically named 'Sunshine Days' motel, none of them happy to be in Missouri, and all anticipating the hunt ahead of them with varying degrees of dread.

The drive from Iowa had been exhausting and rife with tension, and almost as soon as they had reached their destination, the three hunters had decided to retire to bed, snatching what little sleep the impending dawn would allow.

Staring at the red digital display of the clock on the nightstand, Jo blew out an unsteady breath and almost immediately felt the arm around her waist tense in response.

Dean's hand lay splayed across her abdomen, holding her close to him as he curved around her. Jo's back pressed into his front and their legs fell in an undeterminable tangle.

"It'll be dawn soon," Jo reasoned, noting how the room was gradually becoming lighter with each passing second, and the large neon figures on the clock were changing before her eyes.

"Try to get some sleep," Dean replied, peppering her shoulder with affectionate kisses, even as his own mind reeled with what he knew lay before them.

Of all the unearthly, malevolent forces he had faced over the years, Dean Winchester would be the first to admit that hellhounds instilled him with considerable dread. If Ellen's death and Jo's life threatening injuries were not enough to cement this opinion, then his demise at their claws was the deciding factor.

The prospect of facing one of these beasts - who already had their scent- was not one he relished.

"Dean?" Jo said quietly, turning her head to face him as she continued, "are you afraid?"

Dean was uncharacteristically silent before he finally murmured in reply, "Yeah."

Jo nodded, and her expression was equally grave as she felt him coax her to roll over in his arms in order to meet his gaze.

"Promise me something," Dean began hesitantly, gulping as he saw the fear reflected back at him from her eyes, "that if anything happens... you won't come back for me. Promise me you won't do anything stupid, Jo."

He referred of course to their first time in Carthage, and Jo blanched as she leant up on her elbows and stared down at him.

"Would you leave me behind?" she asked simply, already knowing the answer to the question, and Dean sighed in defeat as she hovered over him and brushed her lips against his. "Then you know I can't make that promise."

"It was my fault," Dean murmured less than a second after the kiss had ended. Although Jo shook her head, Dean continued, "You came back for me, but I'd have been okay."

"You'd have been hellhound chow," Jo bit back, anger blazing across her eyes as she regarded Dean, "and we both know that."

"No, we don't," Dean replied, turning over to stare up at the white washed ceiling as he continued, "I've faced some terrible things in my life Jo, but losing you was the worst."

"I know I made a mistake," Jo said quietly, bowing her head so that her hair fell in an obscuring curtain across her features, "but it wasn't coming back for you. The only thing I did wrong was letting my Mom get hurt. I let my guard down, and it only took a second."

"Your Mom died protecting you," Dean said softly, massaging Jo's shoulder with one hand, "just like my Mom died protecting Sammy."

"If I'd have just..." she began miserably, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.

"No," Dean insisted, sitting up in bed beside her and taking her hands as he forced her to look up at him, "none of what happened was your fault. You gotta stop talking like that, Jo. You can't go after this thing tomorrow thinking that way." He shook his head bitterly, "Because then you _will_ make mistakes and... and, I need you."

He stared down at her in desperation, noting a faint smile that appeared on her lips at not only his words, but the adoration evident in his eyes.

"I gave you this..." he rubbed his fingertip over the ring on her left hand, which had yet to leave her finger since Dean had gifted it to her. "I gave you this because I want a life with you, Jo, and if you want the same..."

"You know I do," she interrupted him, glancing down at their joined hands as he wasted no time in continuing.

"Then you'll fight this thing... but with me and Sammy beside you, because we're not gonna let you do this alone," Dean implored, "and when all this is over, you and I are gonna take a vacation. No hunting, no demons, no crazy-ass angels, just you and me. What do you say?"

Jo flashed Dean a somewhat watery smile before nodding in agreement at his words. Together, they lay down against the hard motel mattress, so like a hundred others that they could recall from their time as hunters. In silence, and wrapped tightly in each other's arms, Jo and Dean watched the dawn break.

**x-x-x**

Taking out the trash was Doug Chambers' least favourite task of the evening. The alleyway that housed the dumpsters was small and constricting, and never failed to make the rather rotund bar owner feel claustrophobic. Not to mention the fact that of late, Doug had experienced an intense feeling of being watched unlike any other he had felt before. Simply chalking his unease up to the recent stress of his profits having taken a nosedive, Doug proceeded to heave the several heavy trash bags out of the back door and into the alley.

By the time he had collected all of the bags, sweat ran down Doug's face and pooled on the front of his white shirt, soaking it through almost completely. He paused, leaning against the wall in order to mop at his brow with the back of one meaty arm. Doug's head whipped around as from somewhere down the dark alley the sound of a bottle smashing drew his attention. Doug took a small step forwards, his eyes narrowing as he struggled to pinpoint a figure in the darkness. Somewhere off in the street, a dog howled and then released a throaty growl.

Shuddering, Doug turned back to the trash bags, and began to heft them one at a time into the open and already overflowing dumpster.

The hairs on his arm stood on end as a deep, angry growl sounded from behind him; he thought he sensed a presence lurking but a quick glance over his shoulder revealed nothing.

Deciding to leave the two remaining trash bags on the ground beside the dumpster, Doug headed back toward the door, all but jogging inside. Another unearthly howl drifted through the night air yet this time Doug knew the animal was perhaps only feet away, and he stepped hurriedly over the threshold, grabbing for the metal bar that secured the door.

Mere seconds later an ear piercing scream joined ferocious snarls as the bar owner was thrown to the ground. Blood spattered freely across the whitewashed wall as his body was savaged by the teeth and claws of an invisible assailant. Doug grabbed at the air, trying to free himself from the unseen jaws.

The creature ripped through his flesh with ease, ignoring his pleas and shrieks as it flung him like a rag doll up into the air, ruthlessly assaulting his body with fresh scratches and tears.

Finally dropping its lifeless prey, the creature released one final succession of barks, and the sound of glass smashing and trash being trampled echoed through the alley as it tore away into the night.

Doug Chambers' eyes gradually slipped closed; his blood pooled beneath him, and silence fell upon the alleyway once more. The hell hound had effortlessly claimed another victim.

* * *

><p><strong>We now have our very own blog site for DeanJo fics! If you want to check out our new, exclusive series of vignettes (that won't be published anywhere else), head on over to our profiles for the link to 'Thenewroadhouse.'**


	14. Chapter 14

_**Authors' Note – Thanks to all who have read/reviewed so far. You'll be happy to know that we are not drunk tonight, but we are working on it. (We do not have alcohol dependency issues – we are on vacation. A drunken, fic writing, ice-cream eating vacation. ) Whilst we do not need your judgement, we do need your reviews! **_

_**Episode Five – Part Two**_

'_**Black Eyed Dog'**_

**x-x-x**

As the trio of hunters proceeded hesitantly down the sidewalk of Carthage's main street, their attention was drawn to the shell of one particular building. Surrounded by various construction materials and with scaffolding affixed to the front wall, the old hardware store was being rebuilt from the ground up.

Jo paused to stare at the frontage of the building, her eyes burning with unshed tears as she thought back to her mother's final few moments and the sacrifice she had made for them all.

She jumped slightly as Dean squeezed her hand, trying to lead her away from the scene of Ellen's death, a place that also haunted his own nightmares.

"Jo, don't... come on," he urged, releasing her hand and instead looping his arm around her waist to draw her close and avert her gaze.

Jo nodded, rubbing her hand over her face and forcing a smile. Sam placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently, bestowing a sympathetic smile upon her as she inhaled a steadying breath.

"I'm fine guys, really," she assured them, once again reminded of why she was so incredibly thankful to have both men in her life. Whilst her relationship with Dean had perhaps been the only positive thing to have come out of the events in Carthage, she also cherished the friendship she had built with Sam. He had become akin to a brother to Jo, and as she had found herself falling deeper in love with Dean over the past ten months, she had also forged a bond with the younger Winchester.

"Let's get this over with," Sam said quietly, striding towards the mouth of the alley at the corner of the street. The alleyway was crawling with uniformed officers, and lengths of luminous crime scene tape blocked off the entrance from public view.

Passersby had gathered along the street in huddles, and were whispering amongst themselves as they nevertheless attempted to catch a glimpse of the scene. Jo swallowed back the panic she felt swirling in her gut and forced herself to follow in Sam and Dean's wake. She focused on her breathing, afraid that if she did not she may hyperventilate.

Dean released his hold on her and Jo felt her heartbeat quicken. They ducked underneath the yellow tape barrier and, withdrawing their ID badges, approached the officer who stood in the centre of the investigation.

Jo blinked rapidly, the edges of her vision beginning to swim, and as a dog barked excitedly from somewhere on the street, she released a sharp hiss of breath. Sam and Dean were already engaged in a conversation with the officer in charge, seeming not to notice Jo's absence at their side as they upheld their professional fronts. Jo's head whipped sideways as the incessant clicking of a camera shutter resounded throughout the alley, and her heart began to hammer in her chest.

"I'm right here."

The sound of Dean's voice startled her as he whispered softly in her ear and placed his hand momentarily on her waist. He was keeping a watchful eye on her from his peripheral vision and had noted each decidedly nervous moment.

Jo managed to muster a smile before they rounded the corner of the alleyway and were confronted with the remains of the ill-fated bar owner.

Her hand flying up to cover her mouth, Jo turned her head away as the three hunters took in the scene before them with a collective grimace. The sound of buzzing flies hovering around the body made Dean feel instantly nauseous, and he felt his palms grow damp with sweat as he surveyed what was left of the late Mr. Chambers.

"Oh my God," Sam rasped, staring down for a second at his feet as he spied what appeared to be sections of the man's internal organs scattered across the ground and spattered against the wall.

"I gotta get out of here," Jo balked, her eyes widening as she spied the deep claw marks running up the man's torso. Turning on her heel, she walked briskly from the crime scene, leaving Dean and Sam staring after her retreating form.

Sam moved forwards and, removing a camera from the pocket of his jacket, began hastily snapping a succession of images. Dean stood rooted to the spot, his eyes affixed on the deep gashes that seemed to have turned the man's innards to ribbons.

"I don't think I can do this Sammy," Dean whispered, his tone husky and overcome with emotion. He blinked as a succession of memories bombarded him, and when he glanced down at his own hands, the image of Jo's blood staining them was all too fresh in his mind.

"Just take a deep breath bro," Sam soothed, exchanging a curt nod with a passing police officer who was beginning to clear a path for a couple of stretcher bearers from the local coroner's office. Sam knew that time was of the essence, and so he began to move around the scene with his camera, snapping pictures where he could.

Dean shook his head in an effort to dispel the nightmarish images that plagued his mind, and shot a glance at the body of the barman before it was removed from the scene.

"Theory is some kind of wild animal," a voice barked from Dean's side, "but I don't see how that's possible. Not in this area, anyhow."

Dean turned to regard the young officer who stood at his side, his arms folded across his chest and an inexplicably smug smile stretched taught across his lips. He shot a smirk at Dean and then gestured towards the corpse with his head.

"Looks like your partner couldn't handle things," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling as though he was enjoying the prospect. "She's out front, tossing her cookies. I can't believe the Feds. allow women on the job."

"Get out of the way, ass-wipe," Dean growled, shoving past the bewildered and now deflated officer. He strode out of the alleyway and back toward the main street.

Dean sighed heavily as he found Jo crouched down over the curb. Her complexion had significantly paled and she wrapped her arms around her midsection as she promptly vomited into the gutter. Dean bent down at her side, holding her hair back from her face as he rubbed her back in a comforting gesture.

Sitting back on the edge of the curb, Jo wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and closed her eyes. Her stomach continued to churn and a shudder wracked her entire body.

Not knowing what to say, Dean merely stroked her hair, watching helplessly as tears trickled down her cheeks, "Jo, I..."

"I'll be fine, Dean," she assured him with grim determination, producing a stick of gum from her pocket and hurriedly tossing it into her mouth.

"We shouldn't have come," Dean stated bitterly, shaking his head as he mentally berated himself for ever having chosen to follow Castiel's orders.

"We had to," she replied, staring out across the street as memories of that fateful day flickered unrelentingly before her minds' eye.

"Come on." Dean slid his hand under her elbow in order to help her to her feet and then secured his arm around her waist to steady her, "We're going back to the motel, we know what did this. Now all we gotta do is find it, kill it, and get the hell out of here."

"Or wait for it to find us," Jo added quietly, fear tainting her voice. Dean could do nothing but nod in unwilling agreement.

Sam rounded the corner and Dean gestured to the car. He led Jo back over to the Impala ignoring the curious stares of the police officers as he placed his hand in the centre of her back.

"I really wish you hadn't just seen me throw up," Jo smiled despite her misery, avoiding Dean's gaze as a blush rose up her otherwise pallid complexion.

Dean chuckled despite the severity of the situation and pulled open the passenger side door for Jo, who slipped inside the car gratefully and wasted little time in buckling her seatbelt. Without a word, Sam clambered into the backseat and set about flipping through the photographs he had taken on the screen of his digital camera.

"I'm sorry guys," Jo said quietly as the Impala roared away from the curb, and Dean set out in the direction of their motel again. They sped past the various street signs, crossings and traffic lights without Dean so much as inching his foot off the accelerator.

"You got nothing to be sorry about Jo," Sam said kindly, offering Jo a smile as she glanced at him in the rear view mirror. He noted the dark circles lining her eyes and the ashen tone of her usually peachy skin.

"This job is gonna be a quick one," Dean spat, determination evident in both his tone and expression. "After this, we're done with angels and their crap."

Sam seemed to pause on one particular image on the camera, but he did not bother to share it with either Dean or Jo. Instead, he spoke up, almost hesitant.

"Cas at least gave us half the story," he said, carefully picking his way through his choice of words so as not to ignite a further spark of anger within Dean. "We know the hound is being controlled, we just need to find out by whom. If we can link the victims somehow then maybe we can track it down before it's let out again."

"You think someone's keeping it locked up?" Jo inquired, shuddering at the thought. She stifled a yawn behind the back of her hand and shot a glance at her wristwatch, grimacing as she realised that she had been operating now for almost two days on no more than a couple of hours sleep. She dared not close her eyes, as every time Jo entertained the idea of sleep, she was assailed by visions of the explosion that had ultimately claimed Ellen Harvelle's life. Tentatively, Jo placed her palm to her midsection where she knew below her shirt lurked the silvery scars that served as her daily reminder of her last brush with a hound.

A hand came to rest over hers and she glanced up to find Dean staring at her with obvious concern.

"You want to grab a couple hours of shut eye, whilst Sam and I go through the list of victims?" Dean offered, already prepared for Jo's imminent refusal.

Jo shook her head, just as Dean knew she would, and leant back against the leather upholstery as they turned into the motel parking lot.

"I'll go change and then we can look over the police reports?" Sam suggested, waiting until Dean had brought the car to a stop before he unclipped his belt and opened the door.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Jo announced. She wanted nothing more than to escape her restrictive suit and slip into more comfortable clothing. A bitter, acidic taste now lingered in her mouth, and a tight knot had formed in her stomach to accompany it.

"Can you give us a half hour, Sammy?" Dean asked. He hoped to persuade Jo to eat something before they became even further embroiled in the gruesome details of the case. Dean was fairly certain that no more than a cup of coffee had passed her lips in the last forty-eight hours.

"Sure," Sam agreed, patting Jo's shoulder as he stepped out of the car and dug in his pocket for his room key. He disappeared around the corner, leaving Jo and Dean to amble in silence towards their room, which for once was not located next door to Sam's.

"You want to grab late lunch?" Dean feigned casualness as he shot a glance at his wristwatch.

"I'm not hungry," Jo answered in an almost apologetic tone. She knew that her apparent refusal to either eat or sleep would be serving as a constant source of worry to Dean, but despite her best efforts she could not force her body to tolerate either.

"You have to eat Jo," Dean coaxed. They paused outside their room and Dean foraged in his pocket for the key card. As she waited, Jo rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, her eyes darting about the lot as though she were afraid they were being watched.

"I will," she promised, offering Dean a smile and reaching across the space that separated them in order to touch his cheek. She dropped her hand almost as soon as her fingers had made contact with his skin and, as Dean focused his eyes upon hers, he detected the absolute terror that lurked within them.

"I won't let anything hurt you," Dean blurted out, his voice having faded to a husky whisper that betrayed his own fear. Jo faltered for a moment, finding nothing adequate to say and so instead opting to maintain her silence.

"I know you're scared," Dean continued, rubbing the nape of his neck as he talked, "but I promise you Jo, I'd die before I'd let anything or anyone touch you."

With a watery smile, Jo answered softly, "That's what I'm afraid of."

**x-x-x**

Pressing his hand to his forehead in an attempt to shake himself from a weary haze, Dean leant back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair. He leafed through the crime reports from the two previous murders, grimacing as he cast his gaze over the photographs of the bodies; each one had been viciously maimed and mutilated to the point of requiring dental records for a definite identification.

Staring covertly across the room, Dean watched Jo as she sipped at a cup of coffee and continued marking out points of interest to their case on a local map. He smiled as Jo's brow furrowed whilst she worked, tapping the tip of the pencil against her lower lip. The urge to reach out and pull her into his arms was almost overpowering, yet he knew that in her present focused state, she was free from the fear that had consumed them all of late.

Sam was busy reading through witness reports and statements from family members of the deceased, but Dean could not quite remember his own role in the research process.

Puffing his cheeks out as boredom began to plague him, Dean reached across the table and pulled an open bag of potato chips closer. Sam shot him a brief glance as Dean tossed a handful of chips into his mouth and crunched them loudly. However, the younger Winchester returned to work without a word, aware that Dean was simply attempting to distract himself from his dangerously wandering thoughts.

When a sudden frenzied barking whipped up from below the outside window, the three hunters looked up from their respective tasks in alarm. Jo's eyes froze wide in horror and she seemed unable to move from her position stretched out across the bed. Sam was on his feet in an instant, seizing the shotgun that had been propped up at his side against the table leg and cocking it in one fluid motion.

Dean swallowed his mouthful of chips and reached into his jacket pocket to withdraw the handgun he kept there.

"Dean..." Jo whispered, her voice trembling as an eerie keening echoed around the parking lot. Pressing his index finger to his lips, Dean climbed to his feet and approached the window with measured steps.

Sam shot Jo a glance and beckoned her towards him, realising that in her current state she would prove little help to either of the brothers should a fight ensue. Without protest, Jo stumbled to her feet and began to cross the room towards Sam, who held his hand out in a gesture of intended reassurance. That was when the window shattered, glass fragments flying inwards as though something enormous and heavy had connected with the frame.

Before Dean could so much as take a step, a series of unearthly growls heralded the hell hound's arrival and, within seconds, Jo had been knocked to the floor.

"Jo!" Dean yelled, rushing forward as Sam struggled to take aim. He fired two shots that apparently missed the beast's body entirely and instead became embedded in the wall behind.

Jo kicked and struggled against her attacker as Dean reached out to pull her free. But his speed was no match for the creature and before his hand could connect with hers, her blood curdling screams filled the air.

Dean's eyes widened as four large talon marks suddenly appeared across Jo's abdomen, and blood began to pool unrelentingly from the wounds. Attempting to move between her and the hell hound, he dropped to his knees, firing three shots in quick succession. A startled yelp alerted him to the fact that he had struck the creature and a spot of black blood began to trickle onto the carpet below.

"Sammy! Help me!" Dean yelled, his desperation palpable as he kicked out at the air above Jo's body and received a responding snarl. Jo cried out again as a further set of deep track marks appeared across her collar bone, and her brown eyes grew large in response to the agony that overwhelmed her.

"Dean, get down," Sam barked, barely waiting for his brother to fling himself to the ground before he proceeded to empty the entire contents of the barrel of his shotgun into the creature. Each shell vanished into thin air as it connected with it's target and, with a pained howl, the hound lashed out at Jo one final time before the sound of talons scrabbling against glass signified it's attempt at escape. Thick, ebony blood leaked out a trail to the window ledge, and the hellhound whimpered as it disappeared into the parking lot.

Dean scrabbled across the glass strewn floor, ignoring the shards that dug into his palms as he made his way to Jo's side. He lifted Jo across his knee, tears already welling in his eyes as she stared back up at him. Her face was ashen, and blood spattered across her cheeks and the front of her hair was stained red.

Jo opened her mouth in an attempt to speak but her breath merely escaped her in a short, sharp gasp and she cried out in pain as she lifted a shaking hand up toward Dean's face; their eyes connected for the briefest moment and Dean struggled to catch his own breath at the realisation that Jo's life was ebbing away.

Running his eyes frantically over her body, he vaguely registered Sam talking to the 911 operator, yet he knew that Jo would not live to see the EMT's arrive.

"Just hang on, just..." he swallowed hard, watching as tears tripped her cheeks and she shook her head, the reality of the situation becoming too great to deny.

Dean stared down at the ground, terror consuming him as dark red blood spewed from beneath Jo and soaked through the fabric of his jeans. Her eyelids fluttered closed and he felt her body grow limp in his arms.

"Jo? Jo? No! Please, Jo...sweetheart, don't... " Dean cried out, pressing down in a futile gesture on the largest of her wounds, as he held her in his arms, pleading with her not to leave him.

Her hand dropped to her side and Dean rocked her body in his arms, pressing his face into her neck as he continued to call out her name.

"Dean..." he heard Sam whisper. A hand gripped his shoulder hard and shook him forcibly. Tears spilled down his cheeks as he murmured Jo's name over and over. He trembled.

"Dean!" Sam repeated, his tone growing more urgent. Dean lashed out at his brother as Sam attempted to haul him away from Jo, chanting his name like a mantra.

"No," Dean yelled, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion as he struck out and felt his hand connect with solid flesh. He was vaguely aware of a muffled cry of pain but, hardly caring, Dean struck out again and again.

"Dean... Dean..." Sam demanded, and suddenly a hard slap landed against Dean's jaw, jolting him into consciousness.

Dean's eyes fluttered open with a start, and he found himself almost nose to nose with Sam, as he sat up on the bed, his heart hammering in his ears.

"Seriously, man..." Sam muttered, pressing his hand to his cheek where Dean had lashed out at him in his sleep.

His chest heaving, Dean raked his hand through his hair as his eyes darted around the room. "Where's Jo? Is she okay?"

A hand suddenly slid across the back of his neck and he realised Jo was sitting alongside him, both she and Sam staring at him in an equal measure of bemusement and concern.

"You having a nightmare or something?" Sam enquired, watching as Dean made no attempt to reply and threw his arms around Jo. He hauled her onto his lap and buried his face in the warmth of her neck.

"Oh my God, Jo..." he rasped, closing his eyes and shuddering as the violent imagery of his dream pervaded his mind.

"It's okay," Jo soothed, dropping her voice to a gentle whisper as Sam moved to sit at the table once again, clearly uncomfortable.

"It's okay," she repeated. Dean's distress was clear and she made no effort to pull away as he swept his hands desperately over her body to assure himself that she was indeed unharmed.

"I'm sorry..." Dean choked out, finally drawing away from Jo and smoothing both palms across her cheeks.

"Hey, why do you think I've been resisting taking a little nap?" Jo murmured, understanding radiating from her features as she brushed her lips against Dean's forehead in a tender kiss.

"We got any ice?" Sam demanded, rubbing at the raw spot on his cheek and shooting Dean a pointed glare. His expression was far from angry however, and his eyes conveyed both his sympathy and forgiveness. After all, Sam was accustomed to the panic and fear that accompanied such nightmares.

"Sorry dude," Dean apologised, shrugging off his shirt which was now near drenched through with sweat.

"Coffee?" Jo inquired with feigned brightness.

Sam let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes as he stated quietly, "I'll make a fresh pot."

"You wanna tell me what it was about?" Jo asked. Knowing all too well the fears that currently plagued all three hunters; she assumed she could make an educated guess as to the basis of his nightmare. Dean shook his head firmly and arched an eyebrow.

"No," he stated, feeling his breathing gradually slow to a normal rate as he nuzzled against her cheek and inhaled the sweet, vanilla scent of her perfume. The familiarity calmed him, and he tried to banish all thoughts from his mind save for the feel of her skin against his own.

Jo murmured soothingly and brushed her lips across his cheek, and she emitted a gentle squeak of surprise as Dean's lips descended on hers and she found herself drawn into a tender, yet desperate kiss. They drew apart after a moment, only to remain in an embrace, Jo sitting astride his knee with her arms wound around his neck.

"We'll get through this," Sam promised, "all three of us."

He placed two mugs of coffee on the nightstand and mustered his most confident expression, but his optimism was met with considerable scepticism.

Dean merely nodded, his features darkening as he blinked away persistent flashes of his dream and his fingers dug into Jo just that little bit tighter.

The ringing of her cell phone caused Jo to extract herself hurriedly from his grasp, and she pressed a kiss to his lips before jumping down from his knee.

"That'll be the reporter from the newspaper," she speculated, hurrying over to the table to retrieve her phone.

Dean stared after her, picking up his coffee mug with disinterest and sighing as Sam sank down at his side. The brothers sat in silence for a few minutes before Sam cleared his throat and followed the path of Dean's gaze to the blonde hunter.

"Carthage?" Sam speculated in a gentle tone. Holding his own mug between his hands, he stared down in contemplation at his lap.

"No actually," Dean replied, shooting Sam a wan smile, "seems my subconscious has a little more imagination than we thought."

Sam arched an eyebrow and surprise flickered across his features, before he raised his mug to his lips and took a long sip. He swallowed and only when he had lowered his mug back into his lap did he attempt to reply.

"I won't let anything happen to her, Dean," Sam assured, careful to keep his voice low so as not to attract Jo's attention. "I just want you to know that."

"Thanks Sammy," said Dean, his throat growing suddenly unbearably tight as emotion threatened to overcome his now composed demeanour.

"I know how much she means to you," Sam continued. Jo shot a quizzical smile at the brothers as they both watched her keenly. "The way Dad loved Mom and... and the way I felt about Jess. So, I get it, I do. And I'm right here with you dude, I won't let anything happen to her."

Dean mulled over Sam's words as he peered across the room at Jo with a faraway look in his eyes, "That's what I'm afraid of Sam. The guys in our family aren't exactly lucky in love; I don't want Jo to end up like Mom and Jess did."

"I think..." Sam began, swallowing the painful lump that arose in his throat, "I think that had more to do with the life we lead than the guys in our family, Dean. Hunting, well... it's not exactly a family friendly vocation."

"Maybe," Dean shrugged, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he added mournfully, "but then, sometimes I think I love her too much, you know?"

Sam stared evenly at his brother, comprehending and empathising with his words, yet nonetheless angered by them.

"No," Sam said definitely, "I think you should stop being afraid of the 'what ifs'. Deal with them if you have to. But don't meet trouble half way."

"It's not as easy as it sounds, Sam," Dean replied, and although his voice was weary it was also patient. Dean was not entirely certain that Sam knew the extent to which he had closed off his emotions over the years. Sarcasm and humour had often served as Dean's only defence mechanism, and he had utilised them well in his never-ending battle to avoid getting too close to people or situations. The thing that scared Dean most, was the almost certain knowledge he held that should anything ever happen to the one woman he had lowered his guard for, then he would be irreparably broken, just like his father. John Winchester had been a good man but his mistakes had been numerous, and Dean did not intend to mirror them. Loving Jo was not a mistake, rather, Dean recognised it as his one true weakness; the idea of ever living without her stopped his heart dead.

"It's as easy as you make it," Sam responded, draining the coffee from his mug and then fixing Dean with a somewhat judgemental frown. "We're family, the three of us- we take the good with the bad and, well, we kick the bad's ass when we can. I care about Jo too, but I'm smart enough to understand that she isn't Mom, and she isn't Jess. You have no idea what's around the corner Dean, so just don't try second guess it and ruin a good thing."

"Woah, that was kind of deep, dude," Dean observed, one side of his mouth twitching upwards in a half smile that Sam met with a nod.

"It was," Sam agreed with a smirk, standing up from the bed with a self-assured nod.

"And I'm not." Dean referred back to Sam's advice, his tone hesitant and self-conscious. "I'm not gonna ruin a good thing. I love her. So much, that sometimes I have these crazy ideas... getting married... maybe popping out a kid, or two."

"That's not crazy, Dean," Sam interrupted his brother's lament and affixed him with what he hoped was a stern expression, "and if you both want those things, you gotta go for them. There's no certainty in anyone's life, hunter or not... you think that bar guy woke up yesterday morning and thought he'd wind up being hell hound kibble? The bad things are gonna find us, Dean, we just gotta make up for them with the good. And you and Jo, that's a good thing."

Dean laughed softly, smiling at his brother's innate wisdom and the truth behind his words, "You got all the smart genes, huh?"

Sam nodded and shot him a taunting smirk, "Guess they went hand in hand with the height genes."

"Hey, you're just freakishly tall," Dean groused, biting back a smirk as both men's attention became focused on Jo. She sauntered back over and perched on the edge of the bed next to Dean, glancing between both brothers as she spoke.

"Okay, so the reporter is going to meet us for lunch at the diner," Jo announced, having persuaded the woman to meet with them by spinning a well used cover story, whereby the three hunters became prospective authors, researching strange occurrences across small town America.

"She know anything about the murders?" Dean asked, realising that in a town such as Carthage, bad news travelled fast. Jo shrugged and lay back against the bed as she found herself overcome by a series of yawns.

"She said she had a couple of theories, I guess we'll have to wait and see. Oh..." she frowned suddenly and leant up on her elbows as she regarded Sam, "I kind of told her you were a parapsychologist from MIT."

"Better dust off that lab coat Dr. Venkman," Dean smirked, turning his attention to Jo and the tiny strip of skin that was now exposed on her abdomen, as she lay with her arms above her head.

Jo caught his wandering gaze and held up a hand to him in warning, "Don't even think about it, Winchester!"

She arched an eyebrow pointedly, attempting to decipher the look in his eyes. Yet instead of the crazed tickling assault she had been anticipating, Dean simply leaned over her and kissed her. He bestowed a lingering smile upon her before standing and crossing the room. Dean rubbed his hands over his face as he tried to dispel the last vestiges of sleep, determined now that he would not succumb to slumber again until the hellhound had been dispatched.

"Sammy, you better keep that coffee coming."

**x-x-x**

The reporter they had intended to meet with was running late, affording the hunters time to order as they waited. Whilst Jo sipped at her soda, Sam spread mayo on his turkey club sandwich, and Dean took a hefty bite from a grilled steak sub. Every so often he would wordlessly slide his plate across the table to Jo, urging her with his eyes to share his meal. Thus far, he had succeeded in force-feeding her three fries and the slice of tomato he had abandoned from his sandwich in disgust. It was hardly a significant achievement, but Dean was grateful for baby steps.

"What are we hoping to find out here?" Dean inquired between mouthfuls as he glanced at his watch in irritation only to discover that the time for their meeting had elapsed now by more than an hour. "If this woman ever damn well shows."

"She'll show," Jo informed him with surprising confidence. She rested her hand absently on Dean's knee and shot him a smile. "I told her we were writing a book, and that we were interested in the more unusual criminal cases the surrounding area had to offer. I threw out a few hints about this particular case and she couldn't wait to show me the evidence she'd collected. Says she has a theory, and maybe even a suspect, but the police aren't real interested in talking to her."

Dean frowned, his brows furrowed as he pressed, "Why? Does she sound crazy?"

"Define crazy," Jo stated, biting back a smirk and then shaking her head as Dean held out his half eaten sandwich towards her. He shot Jo a chiding glance but she simply looked away.

"Please?" he redoubled his efforts, pushing his plate toward her and gesturing for her to eat at least one of the greasy fries.

Sighing in defeat, Jo swiped a fry from the plate and nibbled on it, widening her eyes at him to emphasise her obedience.

"Thank you." Dean gave a charming smile before sinking his teeth into his sandwich with vigour.

"Think this is her?" Sam asked, watching as a petite redhead strode through the door with a laptop bag slung over her shoulder, and a flustered expression on her face.

Glancing across the crowded diner, the woman focused in on the trio, her eyes narrowing analytically as she made her way through the maze of tables and booths and paused beside them.

"Jo?" she frowned, looking to the blonde hunter quizzically.

"Hi... Danielle?" Jo checked, smiling in greeting at their newest contact.

Beaming, the reporter sank into the vacant spot in the booth next to Sam and wasted little time in settling her bag on the tabletop.

"That's me. Let's get down to business, shall we?" the woman suggested, not even bothering to offer an apology for her late appearance. Dean arched an eyebrow but swallowed a sarcastic quip with a gulp of his soda.

"Sure," Jo agreed, seemingly unperturbed by the woman's attitude. She reached across the table in order to accept a bundle of papers that Danielle offered her, which were secured together by a single paperclip. Jo flipped through the pages quickly, and scanned them with equal haste.

"This is Professor Winchester," Jo said, a smile twitching at her lips as she gestured to Sam, who reached out and shook the reporter's proffered hand with evident embarrassment. "And this is Danielle Gordon, the reporter from the newspaper I mentioned."

"Professor," Danielle purred, smoothing down her hair with the palm of one hand as she affixed Sam with an almost predatory stare. He gulped, and pushed aside his plate.

"Good to meet you," Sam began, flicking a murderous glare at Jo as he noted the delight spread across her features. "Miss. Gordon, what can you tell us about the recent spate of murders in town?"

"Just about anything you need to know," Danielle replied, tossing her hair and letting out a loud, rather effected laugh punctuated by a snort. Dean cringed, and Sam seemed to sink further into his seat, whilst Jo positioned her hand in front of her mouth, feigning a cough in order to mask the chuckle that escaped her.

"Jo mentioned that you had a few theories," Dean pressed, taking the papers from Jo.

"Well, like I told your wife, not much goes on around these parts that the Chronicle doesn't know about," Danielle smiled proudly, failing to intercept the blush that rose up Jo's cheeks as a result of her mistake.

Dean nodded, ignoring the reporter's error, and even smiling at the inference as the woman continued on. Her eyes always somehow seemed trained on Sam and, noting as much, he squirmed in his seat. The younger Winchester felt his cheeks burn, and he took a sip of his drink to mask the tellingly nervous smile he felt sure was about to betray him.

"So... Doug Chambers, the bar owner," Danielle began, leaning forward in her seat as if about to impart some great secret, "he's the third stiff in the last two weeks."

Dean smirked at her terminology and gestured for her to continue.

"Well, before that it was Matt Hutchinson and a couple of days before that, George Raymond got all... chewed on. Now, the cops are trying to say it's animal attacks, but if you ask me... there's something entirely funky going on in this town."

"Uh... funky?" Sam questioned, leaning back in his seat. Danielle seemed to be inching ever closer to him.

"A wild animal in this place?" Danielle practically snorted at the idea, not pausing to even draw a breath as she ploughed on, "no way. Not unless someone _brought_ it here. Like on purpose... to do their bidding... or something."

Dean almost choked on the fry he had popped into his mouth only moments before as his amusement overcame him. Jo sent a swift elbow in the vicinity of his ribs and Dean managed to straighten up, and simultaneously contain his laughter.

"You think someone is holding a wild animal captive, and setting it on their enemies?" Sam checked, hardly believing his ears. Danielle nodded, sucking on her front teeth as she stared at Sam, transfixed by his wide, hazel eyes.

"I read all the police reports... coroner ones too... though I guess I'm not really meant to have those..." she winked at Sam and her smile became that of a co-conspirator. "Anyways, they all said the three bodies looked to have been mauled by a mountain lion. Giant teeth marks, claw marks that went all the way through to bone... and get this, all three of the victims were in some kind of dispute with one person... Frank Trudoe."

"Dispute?" Jo queried, slapping at Dean's hand as he attempted to wrestle the reports, complete with photographs, from her grasp. He seemed to be operating under the illusion that Jo had not seen their own copies of the images, and was striving to do his best to ensure that remained the case.

Danielle grinned in mild amusement at their little domestic, starting slightly as the table rattled and Dean simultaneously winced.

Jo ignored the pained glance Dean shot in her direction and she pressed on with their discussion, "Do you know what they were fighting about?"

"Sweetie, the whole town knows what they were fighting about. Frankie, he's... well, he's kind of the town eccentric, I guess every place like this has one. But he and Matt were in high school together and everybody knows that Frank was in love with Tammy Newmar. He all but stalked her until Matt told him to back off, or... you know," she shrugged and slid the point of one index finger against her throat.

"Tammy was Matt's girlfriend?" Sam guessed, struggling to keep up with the names Danielle reeled off in quick succession.

"Yes," she confirmed with a nod. She snatched up a renegade bobby pin as it fell from her hair, and she bent it quickly between her teeth before sliding it back into her flame red tresses, "He and Matt got into this whole thing. Matt threatened him with a shotgun... you can guess the rest."

"Okay, and the other guy? George?" Dean asked, relieved to see Jo had closed the folder of crime scene photographs. Avoiding his gaze, she sidled slightly closer to him across the booth, in a clear act of repentance for the swift kick she had landed on his shin.

"Well, rumour has it that three days before he died, George denied Frank a bank loan for an undisclosed amount of money," Danielle explained, dropping her voice to a whisper as she continued, "I have contacts at the bank. They say Frank came in to discuss his finances with George, and left real quick in a foul mood. Next morning, all four tyres on George's car were slashed, and his windscreen was shattered. He filed a police report that night about a trespasser on his property, and a day later he was dead. His wife found him in their back yard... guts everywhere."

Jo swallowed hard and struggled to push away her discomfort as she queried, "What do the police think about Frank's involvement with the murders?"

Danielle snorted and, glancing casually at Sam as she did so, reached across to grip his soda and raised it to her lips. When she was done, she set the can back down on the table in front of the startled hunter and patted his leg.

"They're certain it's some wild animal that's ventured into the area all on it's own," she said in disgust, wrinkling her nose. "But this is no coincidence. A few months ago, I have it on good authority that Frank approached a couple of local tradesmen with a potential job that they all turned down. He wanted a barbed wire enclosure built in his barn. Insisted it was for his chickens."

"And you don't believe him?" Dean pressed, beginning to scrawl notes quickly on the sheets of paper the reported had given them. Danielle shook her head.

"Have to be some pretty big chickens to need twenty square feet of barbed wire," the woman said, her lips curving into a smug smile as the three hunters exchanged shocked glances.

"Wait a minute," Sam protested, "that doesn't explain the latest victim... Doug..."

"Chambers," the reporter interjected, leaning towards Sam eagerly as she pressed on, "Frank owed him money. Big money."

"Overdue bar tab?" Dean guessed. He frowned, wondering if the evidence and supposed links the reporter had thus far supplied them with were somewhat tenuous.

"Not even close," Danielle said with a chuckle. "A couple times a month, Frank and some of the other guys that hung around the bar got together to play a little poker. Frank lost big to Doug and when he didn't have the cash to pay him, he all but bet his damn farm on one final game."

"I take it he lost," Jo said dryly, rolling her eyes as she looked first to Dean and then to Sam. She could hardly believe that someone would be involved in the ruthless murder of three men for such trivial matters as money, and lust.

Danielle nodded, and added quietly, "Last thing I heard, Doug was badgering Frank to pay. Refused to let him off and even went so far as to send some guys round to put the frighteners on Frank."

"You know where we can find this Frank, guy?" Dean asked, his gaze suddenly drawn to Sam who appeared to be squinting open-mouthed out of the window.

"His place is out on Golder's Lane... he lives out of town, usually stays out of folks way. He's uh... he's kind of a loner. Not sure he'd appreciate an unannounced visit. Say..." she looked Dean over analytically, tapping her bottom lip with her pencil as she weighed him up, "you sure you're not cops?"

"Us? Cops?" Dean guffawed, both he and Jo watching in evident bemusement as Sam wordlessly stood up and left the table. Wearing a grim expression, he strode out through the door which slammed closed behind him with the jingle of a bell.

"Well where's he going?" Danielle asked, blinking as both Dean and Jo also climbed to their feet, and Dean followed, hot on his brother's heels.

"Thanks," Dean called out over his shoulder, "we'll uh... we'll send you a copy of the book!"

The reporter shook her head in surprise, watching as Jo threw down a wad of dollar bills on the table to pay for their order and then slung her bag over her shoulder.

"You're leaving too?" Danielle asked askance, realising she had lost the woman's attention minutes ago. Jo stared wide eyed out of the window. Her face visibly paled as her gaze caught up with Sam and Dean, and she felt her knees almost buckle beneath her.

"Sweetie, are you okay? You don't look so good," Danielle probed, "should I get you a glass of water? Why don't you sit back down?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Jo shook her head, managing a brief smile of thanks as she too now headed toward the door, "thanks again, it was good to meet you."

Watching the door slam shut behind the blonde's retreating figure, Danielle picked up the can of coke from the table and sighed dejectedly.

"Authors, my ass."

**x-x-x**

The streets of Carthage were much as she recalled them, aside from one glaringly obvious exception; Meg's lips curved into a delighted smile as she took in the site of the old hardware store, now a blackened shell supported by scaffolding. The building had sustained so much damage from the explosion that had rocked it that the metal poles securing it seemed that they would fold at the slightest pressure. Meg's satisfaction at the sight was immense and, as she strolled down the sidewalk, she swung her arms merrily and her gait became lighter. The one thing that thrilled the demon more than the destruction she had caused, was the undeniable pain she had inflicted upon the Winchester brothers in the process.

Meg's thoughts drifted back to the day that she had intercepted Dean and Sam on their way to confront Lucifer. She had rather hoped that the pack of hounds she had brought along for assurance would make short work of the brothers, and had been somewhat disappointed when it had appeared that they would escape unharmed. However, after lagging behind the rest of his party, Dean had been taken down by one of the creatures, and things had been looking decidedly more promising. When the pretty little blonde had stepped in to intervene and gotten both herself and the mouthy brunette gnawed on, Meg had been near bouncing with joy as she watched. The devastation that had seeped through Dean's features had been unlike anything Meg had ever witnessed from the generally stoic, older Winchester.

Clearly he had cared a great deal for both women, and Meg had her suspicions that the young blonde hunter had held a particularly prominent place in Dean's heart; which of course made her death that much more rewarding. It also guaranteed that should Meg's path cross with the Winchester brothers on her most recent sojourn to Carthage, she would find an opportune moment to enquire as to Dean's feelings about his 'friend's death.

With a deep sigh of satisfaction, Meg continued down the street, glancing idly into the store windows she passed. Her attentions remained focused on the injured hell hound she had been sent to retrieve. Pausing on a street corner to allow for traffic, Meg's gaze wandered over the customers seated in a nearby diner. Almost immediately, a familiar face caught her attention.

"Well, well, well," she drawled, smiling to herself as she stared through the glass at Sam Winchester. Further inspection revealed Dean to be sitting across from him at the booth, and two women filled the other vacant seats; one red head, and one blonde.

Meg watched them closely, finding something about the young woman beside Dean to be familiar, and the demon cursed under her breath as the blonde turned momentarily to face him.

Dean's arm was draped across the back of the woman's seat, and it was not difficult to detect an intimacy between them, as they sat mere millimetres apart with their bodies touching on occasion.

Forgetting her destination for the moment, Meg turned on her heel and made her way toward the window for closer inspection. When Sam, evidently sensing eyes upon him, turned to peer out of the window, Meg offered him her widest grin and raised one hand in a mocking greeting.

* * *

><p><strong>Don't forget folks, the 'Junkin' For Joplin' charity auction takes place this Friday, July 1st, with bidding up until 12pm GMT on July 2nd. There are a ton of awesome fandom related items up for bid, so why not check out the link on our profiles and see if anything catches your eye!<strong>

**We also now have a 'Fic Request' function on our blog site, so if you'd like to send any specific fic requests to us, head on over to our blog site and complete the form! The link can be found on both Silverspoon's & WelshWitch1011's profile page.**

**You'll also find the second part to our newest fic, 'Jukebox Tales'. **


	15. Chapter 15

_**Authors' Note – Thanks to everyone who has read and/or reviewed so far. We hope you are enjoying the story. **_

_**To read our newest series of Dean/Jo oneshots entitled 'Jukebox Tales', please visit our blog, The New Roadhouse. The link is available on either of our profile pages. We are also taking fic requests, should you wish to submit one via the form on the blog.**_

_**A massive additional thank you to anyone who supported our online auction over at FFA Fundraisers. Together, all you awesome people helped to raise $760 for the Joplin Relief Fund.**_

_**Episode Five – Part Three**_

'_**Black Eyed Dog'**_

_**x-x-x**_

"Sam!" Dean called, throwing open the double doors of the diner and jogging after his brother, who just seconds earlier had risen from the table and bolted from the restaurant without explanation. His hand was already reaching into the pocket of his jacket before he had even rounded the corner into the alleyway, and Dean's eyes widened as he watched Sam whip out his handgun.

"Sam... what the hell?" demanded Dean, skidding to a halt a few feet shy of the entrance of the alley, and glaring at Sam, who continued to face away from Dean, his shoulders evidently tense.

"Well, hey there boys," a familiar voice drawled, imitating a thick Southern twang in a clear attempt to offend the brothers. Dean's mouth fell open and, within seconds, he had pulled his own gun from the holster he wore at his waist, and flicked off the safety catch.

"You evil bitch..." Dean snarled, striding passed Sam, his gun brandished and trained upon Meg's skull. The demon simply flashed a grin, exposing her perfectly white teeth in an almost predatory manner.

"We both know that gun can't kill me, Dean," Meg scolded, an almost sing-song tone to her voice as she watched his jaw tense in anger.

"No, but it'd hurt like hell," he growled, pressing the barrel of the gun hard against her skin.

Meg rolled her eyes and batted his hand away like he was little more than a buzzing fly. "We're not really going to play this game again are we?" she asked tiredly, a smile appearing on her face. Jo stepped into the alley, her eyes never for one second leaving Meg's face.

"Ah, Jo Harvelle." Meg smirked, shaking her head as she looked up at Dean with a quizzical frown, "I thought she was dead... I vividly recall watching her get attacked, I mean... that hell hound tore her up good." A sadistic smile settled on her lips as she watched Dean's reaction with amusement. "Bet you can still see it in your head, right Dean? Still smell her blood, as she lay writhing in agony... and you, helpless to stop it."

"Shut your God damn mouth," Dean hollered, mustering all the willpower he had not to pull the trigger there and then.

Jo walked calmly toward Meg, her pace suddenly quickening as she got to within feet of the demon, and before Dean or Sam could so much as move, Jo slammed her fist into Meg's face. The sickening crack of bone and the gush of blood from her nostrils signalled that the vessel's nose was now badly broken. The demon recoiled, about to retaliate when an outwardly enraged Jo landed another punch to her jaw, this time knocking the woman onto the floor.

"Guess I won't be needing this," Dean quipped, glancing down at the gun in his hand with a shrug. He jammed the handgun back into his pocket and stepped forward in order to wrench Jo away from the demon she currently grappled with.

"Let me go!" Jo screeched, fighting against Dean as her fury overcame her logic. For the first time in almost a year, she was standing face to face with the being responsible for her mother's death, and Jo intended to extract her vengeance if she had to crawl across broken glass in order to do so.

"I'll kill you, you little bitch..." Meg hissed, attempting to stem the tide of blood that spurted from her nose and now also an angry split in her bottom lip.

"Bring it, you demonic whore..." Jo challenged, her chest heaving as she stared at Meg. Dean was forced to use both arms in order to restrain Jo, who was clearly irate at such an intervention.

"Pathetic," Meg spat, pausing in order to smooth her tousled hair. A steady stream of blood continued to pulse from her nose but Meg chose to ignore her wounds for the time being, focusing instead on Jo with an almost deadly gaze. She continued mercilessly, her hands curled into claws at her sides, "Your mother was right. You'll never make a good hunter. You're too stubborn and too damn stupid to last five minutes in this life if you didn't have your boyfriend to hold your hand."

"She could kick your ass and you know it," Dean said self-assuredly, narrowing his eyes at the demon's attempts to provoke Jo further.

Meg sighed and shook her head ruefully, deciding to change tactic, "I bet that wound left a nasty scar. Bikini season must be a real no-no for you. Try to think of it as something to remember us by."

Jo's eyes narrowed in fury, and she struggled against Dean's grasp. He held her fast, partly to prevent her launching herself at Meg, and also because seeing the demon again had left him strangely unnerved.

"Ignore her Jo, that's what she wants," Sam stated, glaring intently at the demon, who smirked in response and wiped the blood from her face with her sleeve.

Meg cocked her head as she surveyed Dean and Jo, "Now don't tell me you two are doing the nasty. I mean, we all know Dean likes a warm body beneath him; human, angel, but- you two?"

She watched as Jo glanced up at Dean. "You think you can trust him, Jo? You think he won't break your heart?" she teased, smiling as she recognised that she had hit a nerve with the blonde hunter, who eyes dropped to her feet.

"What the hell do you want?" Dean barked, refusing now to even address the demon by name. Meg quirked her head in his direction and her lips twitched.

"I thought you could use a little help," she said, her tone giving little away. "We're both after the same thing in this Godforsaken armpit of a town, and I thought the time would pass that much quicker if we worked together."

"No," Jo spat before Dean or Sam could even give voice to their objections at the proposition. "You killed my mother."

Meg chuckled and shook her head, her dark hair bouncing with the gesture, "No honey, you killed your Mommy. So eager to impress Dean-o, you didn't even think, did you? Now that hound has your scent, and you know what that means. It won't stop until it's tasted your blood. You're as good as dog food without me."

"Then I'd rather be dog food," Jo retorted, breathing heavily as she finally calmed herself and stood still in Dean's restraining embrace.

"Hell's not all it's cracked up to be," Meg replied, her voice a seductive purr as she added, "just ask your boyfriend."

"As much as I'm sure we're all enjoying our little 'catch up'," Dean spat, "we're not gonna be buddying up, sweetheart. The next time you see us, there'll be a Colt aimed at your head and a knife in your back. Stay out of our way."

Meg glanced at each of the three hunters in turn, finding a similar expression of hatred and resolve adorning their faces.

"Fine. But the hound is mine," she warned, chuckling as she looked Jo up and down, "you watch out, honey, or you may be seeing momma sooner than you thought."

Meg cast one final poisonous glance at the trio before she turned her back on them. Sashaying down the alleyway, she called over her shoulder, "It's been a pleasure as always, boys."

Jo struggled against Dean's restrictive hold, slapping his hands away as she tried to assure him that she was not about to stage any further attack on the retreating demon.

"Get off me, Dean!" she spat, suddenly rounding on him and widening her eyes expectantly, "and in case you were wondering, I know all about Anna."

Dean shook his head in bewilderment, wondering how Jo had found out about his ill-advised tryst with the angel. "Jo... that was before you and me, and you know that."

"Just... whatever..." Jo seethed, her jaw set and her lips pressed into a thin line conveying her displeasure.

Dean glanced in surprise at his girlfriend, a genuinely wounded expression crossing his features before he managed to mask it with a frown. The two hunters regarded each other for a long time, both breathing unevenly, nostrils flaring. The tension that hung in the air between them was overpowering and, clueless as to how to help, Sam stepped forwards and rested a hand on Jo's arm.

"Jo, demons say what they can to hurt you, you know that," he said gently, his eyes sweeping Jo's features. "We need to focus on the case."

He found only desperation reflected within her eyes and so Sam squeezed her arm in reassurance. Jo directed her gaze to the ground, scuffing the toe of her boot across the tarmac as she avoided looking at Dean, who remained silent.

"I know," she finally conceded quietly, licking her lips before she offered Sam an apologetic smile. However, she did not meet Dean's gaze as she brushed past him and out into the street. Jo knew that the reporter would have long since disappeared given the fact that they had run out of their meeting without so much as a word of explanation. However, she was hopeful that the information they had gleaned before Meg's arrival would prove useful to the case.

Dean stared down at the ground, shaking his head sadly before he too stormed off out of the alley way and back toward the main street. He was surprised to find Jo still lingering on the sidewalk, apparently waiting for them.

"Jo..." Dean began, not knowing how to possibly appeal to Jo's more rational side. Meg's appearance had obviously upset her, and he knew that Jo was all too aware of his womanising past. Demons liked to taunt and tease their victims, planting seeds of doubt in their minds that developed into full fledged insecurities and resentments, and he knew that Meg had used Jo's previous knowledge of him to her advantage.

Jo sighed resolutely, folding her arms across her chest as she tried to reign in the emotions she knew were unreasonable. It was not as if she had not had relationships before Dean, and she knew she could not possibly hold him accountable for the same; yet Meg's words still somehow stung her.

"No, it's okay," Jo shook her head, lifting her gaze to meet his eyes and managing a brief smile, "I'm sorry, I... "

Dean interrupted her apology by reaching out a hand toward her, and the tension lifted between them as she smiled and allowed their fingers to intertwine.

"Come on," Dean murmured, pulling Jo into his chest and beginning to walk back towards the Impala, Sam in tow, "we got a house call to make."

**x-x-x**

The Impala crawled along the roadside as the three occupants cast an uneasy glance over the dilapidated farm. Window shutters hung from rusted hinges, and the white paint peeled from the frontage as if a brush had not swept the boards since its initial construction. Each of the hunters sported a small bag around their neck, containing a mixture of salt and goofer dust that Dean had put together at the last minute in the vein hopes that it would provide some protection. Inside his jacket breast pocket nestled the Colt, loaded with the remaining bullets, one of which he hoped would succeed in killing the hellhound once and for all.

Dean tried to dismiss the unrelenting churning in the pit of his stomach, and he placed his hand on Jo's thigh, "Don't take any crazy risks, okay? If this thing's got our scent, we're already at a disadvantage."

Jo nodded, offering him a smile she hoped was confident.

"Same goes for you guys," she stated, glancing between the brothers.

Dean nodded, about to exit the car when he paused and suddenly pressed a tender kiss to her lips. Sam averted his gaze, and Dean whispered something unintelligible in Jo's ear that encouraged a sweet smile.

The air hung heavy between them, and Sam found himself slightly uneasy in their presence. Whilst he too was scared for what perhaps lay in wait for them in the farm house, he realised it held much more significance for Dean and Jo.

"Okay," Dean whispered, taking the shotgun Sam passed him between his hands and checking the barrel for shells.

"I guess I don't need to say 'stay together'," Sam murmured, forcing a smile at the incredulous glares he received from both Dean and Jo. "Thought not."

Proceeding cautiously along the path towards the ramshackle farmhouse, the three hunters maintained a tight line. Their weapons were drawn against their chests and their eyes roamed the surrounding land, always coming back to rest on the apparently deserted house.

Dean signalled with one hand towards the back of the property and, reluctantly, Sam and Jo broke away from his side and skirted around the fence in order to secure the back of the house. Dean moved to the top of the porch stairs and opened the screen door with one hand. The screen emitted a loud creak as it swung open, and Dean winced, pausing in order to await discovery from the house's occupant. When nothing stirred from within the building, Dean lowered his gun and approached the grimy window. Pressing his face almost against the glass, Dean narrowed his eyes as he peered into the lounge. He leapt several feet backwards with a cry of alarm as a black muzzle and two large, tan paws assaulted the glass in response. The Rottweiler let out a series of ferocious barks and snarls, spittle flying from it's jaws as it pawed the window in an attempt to reach Dean.

"No one's home," Sam said, suddenly appearing at the base of the porch steps. He stared at Dean, who was leaning against the railing and breathing raggedly.

"Aside from Kujo there," Dean muttered, feeling his heart rate begin to slow to a more normal rhythm. Dean shot Sam a glare as he demanded, "Where's Jo?"

"Right here," Jo stated, her smile apologetic as both Sam and Dean jumped as she walked up behind them. "No sign of anything at the back of the house. Guess there's just the barn left."

All three hunters eyed the barn with matching trepidation, before Sam finally took the lead and began a slow trek up the dirt path toward the barn doors.

"Please just let it be mutant chickens," Dean quipped as he thought back to the reporter's information about Frank's recent purchases.

Jo shot him a glance and Dean shrugged defensively, "Hey, we've had big ass rabbits and giant, man-eating spiders, so I think I could handle Fog Horn Leg Horn."

Jo shook her head and smirked despite the unease coiling in the pit of her stomach.

"Fog Horn Leg Horn was a rooster," she hissed and they advanced closer to the barn.

Pulling the door back with a wince, Sam stepped carefully inside. His eyes swept the hay lofts and the large pen that had been constructed inside. Barbed wire fencing ran around the enclosure which was at least ten feet in height; clearly not a chicken and Jo followed Sam, each clutching a shotgun in their hands with their fingers poised over the trigger."Stupid question, but... how will we know if it's even in there?" Sam whispered, gingerly eyeing the enclosure.

"One way to find out," Dean conceded, swallowing hard as he shot a glance at Jo before moving forward and beginning to rattle the side of the enclosure with the barrel of his shotgun. As he moved, he yelled antagonistically, "Hey, c'mon you ugly bitch. You in there?"

Jo and Sam stared into the makeshift cage, eyes trained on the floor and the hay strewn across it in an attempt to detect movement. When nothing happened, and not a sound filtered through the barn save for the heavy breathing of the three terrified hunters, Dean took a step back from the cage and lowered his weapon.

"I guess it's not in there," he stated slowly, exchanging glances with Sam and Jo.

"If it's not in here..." Jo said softly, her eyes sweeping the expanse of the ancient, half dilapidated barn warily, "then where is it?"

**x-x-x**

The evening air was crisp and refreshing, as Tammy Newmar strolled through the woods outside of town. Swinging the dog leash in her hand, she inhaled deeply, and smiled at the faint scent of pine and wild flowers.

In her excitement to investigate the surrounding woodland, her canine companion was visible only by the golden tip of her tail. The dog sauntered and sniffled happily through the undergrowth, emitting little yaps every so often when her nose brushed something of interest.

Tammy paused as she heard branches snap behind her and subconsciously quickened her pace. The hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end and Tammy resisted the urge to break into a run. She mentally chided herself for scaring so easily, and for her obsession with watching those slasher movies that did nothing to eradicate her naturally cowardly streak.

Returning her gaze in the direction of her dog, Tammy strained to find any sign of the animal. When she found none, Tammy assumed she had once again picked up the scent of a rabbit and wandered off in pursuit."Delilah?" she called out, pausing in the centre of the path as she raised her hand to protect her eyes from the sunshine.

A responding yip from the trees provoked Tammy's relieved smile, and she stepped forwards with the lead at the ready. When her dog failed to appear, Tammy's smile gave way to an irritated frown and she stepped into the undergrowth with both hands on her hips to prove that she meant business.

"Delilah!" Tammy yelled, striving to keep a low, commanding tone as her dog trainer had instructed her. Under her breath she added contemptuously, "Get your fluffy ass out here before I leave you behind. Dumb dog."

Tammy started when, from her immediate right, their came a rumbling growl much deeper than that of her generally affable Golden Retriever.

"Delilah?" Tammy repeated uncertainly, her voice quivering as the dog barked savagely from it's hiding place. Beginning to walk backwards towards the path, her eyes roving the woods desperately, Tammy brandished the leash in front of her body like a weapon. Talk of recent attacks and mountain lions made her blood run cold, and taking a deep breath, she called out once more to the canine escapee.

"Delilah Newmar, I'm not kidding! Momma will leave you behind!" her voice trembled as she felt a presence edging closer. Though she could see no obvious threat, her heart was pounding inexplicably in her chest and a sudden feeling of nausea was rising up from her stomach.

Squinting against the sun, she spied her pet frolicking happily over in the far corner of the field, and immediately a sense of panic overcame her. A fierce growl edged toward her, and Tammy shuddered as she felt the breath of her invisible stalker on her cheek, it's wild, panting blowing tendrils of her blonde hair."Nice doggy," she whispered, glancing furtively toward the undergrowth as she searched out any sign of the stray.

A moment later Tammy's terrified screams echoed through the woodland as the hellhound's claws tore through her flesh. It pinned her effortlessly to the ground and, in her terror, Tammy screeched, lashing out with the leash as though it were a whip. However, her assailant continued to attack, and red hot pain consumed her entire body. Tammy became vaguely aware of the sound of Delilah barking from somewhere nearby, and her addled brain could do little but hope for her beloved pet's escape. Her senses were beginning to dull; her vision receded into nothing but white, and the frenzied cries of the creature began to dull in her ears.

Tammy's eyes rolled into the back of her head as her heart shuddered to a halt beneath her breast. The hellhound continued in its frenzy, its tongue lapping at the wells of blood that pooled beneath Tammy's body.

As the wind suddenly shifted, the creature's head whipped up into the air, and it's nose sniffed eagerly. Catching an all too familiar and enticing scent, the hellhound released it's latest victim, and tore off in search of it's next.

**x-x-x**

The Impala sped down the dirt road away from the farm, all three hunters in a suitably pensive mood. Whilst there had been a strange mixture of disappointment and relief at not having found the hellhound, the prospect of hunting down the deadly and invisible foe filled them all with suitable dread.

"You think it's out on another kill?" Jo broke the silence, voicing the thought the brothers had been wary of speaking aloud.

"I don't know. Maybe..." Dean shook his head, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. A flash of brown suddenly sped in front of the car from a neighbouring field, and Jo's eyes widened as she caught sight of the animal who had veered into their path. "Dean, stop!" she commanded, shuffling to the edge of her seat to get a better look out of the window.

"With a hellhound on the loose? Are you crazy?" he shook his head, sighing in defeat as Jo shot him an irritable glare.

"That's a golden retriever, Dean, not a hellhound!" Jo retorted, her fingers working the door handle the second Dean slammed on the breaks.

"Jo? Jo, where are you going? Get your ass back in this car!" Dean hollered, watching in disbelief as Jo exited the car and ran over to the shaking canine.

"Hey, c'mere girl," Jo murmured, approaching the dog with one hand outstretched and a tentative smile fixed in place. The dog whined and stared up at Jo through emotive brown eyes. As she drew closer and dropped down to the dog's side, Jo noted with a gulp the crimson stains matted to the sides of the dog's fur.

"It's okay," Jo soothed, grinning despite herself as the dog bounded into her arms and pressed it's wet muzzle against her cheek with a snuffle. She fussed the animal and wound her fingers through the thick fur that tickled her skin, reading the name engraved on the gold disc looped through her collar.

"Will you get back here?" Dean demanded, leaning out of the side door of the Impala and affixing Jo with a murderous stare. Jo hooked her finger underneath the dog's jewel encrusted hot pink collar and began to tow her back towards the Impala. Dean's eyes widened as he realised Jo's intent and, despite his pleas for her to return to the safety of the car, he resolved to prevent her from doing so with her new companion.

"That mutt is not getting in my car," Dean stated, folding his arms across his chest and pursing his lips to demonstrate his resolve on the matter.

"Fine, I'll just walk her back to town then," Jo shrugged, all too aware that Dean would under no circumstances allow her to do anything of the sort.

His lips tightening into a grimace, Dean sighed in defeat, "Alright, fine. But if that thing messes up the seats..."

"You just ignore him," Jo soothed, ruffling the dog's head as she opened the back door and the retriever hopped into the car beside Sam.

"Dean... Sam..." she gestured to the dog and then to each of the brothers, "this is Delilah."

"Delilah?" Sam repeated with a frown, peering cautiously at the dog as she nuzzled against his shoulder. Her tail thumped wildly against the leather interior and Dean practically growled.

"Now get your ass back in this car, Harvelle," Dean directed, his heart pounding as he glanced in the rearview mirror and realised that the slobbering, tail wagging beast was covered in what appeared to be blood.

Jo rolled her eyes and reached for the handle of the car door. When suddenly, Delilah scrambled off the backseat and attempted to wedge her sizeable body beneath the passenger side, the three hunters exchanged puzzled glances. The dog began to whine and whimper, burying her head beneath her paws and visibly trembling. From the side of the road came a succession of loud cracks as tree branches snapped beneath invisible feet.

Jo froze as the snarling began, and a cold chill swept her body. She was aware of the beating of her own heart and how it hitched in response to the hellhound's arrival, but she could barely hear Dean or Sam as they yelled at her to get back in the car.

"Jo!" Sam barked, scrambling to open his own door and failing as Delilah leaped across the seat, almost as though she were trying to prevent him from allowing the creature inside. "Get in the damn car!"

Jo blinked and shook her head as Dean's hand fastened around her arm and he all but yanked her back into the Impala. Dean leaned across her and slammed the door before his foot hit the accelerator. Dean executed a full u-turn in the centre of the road, the tyres squealing in protest as he redirected the car back toward the farm.

"We can't lead it toward town," Sam shouted above the snarl of the hellhound, Delilah's whining, and the roar of the Impala's engine.

"It'll follow us," Dean explained, his jaw tensing as he added gravely, "it's got our scent."

"Jo?" he glanced to his side quickly, laying his hand on Jo's leg and squeezing it lightly to get her attention, "Jo?"

"Yeah?" her head snapped up and she peered up at him from behind a haze of emotion. Fear was evident in her eyes, yet she was battling to overcome the sense of paralysing dread that had filled her.

"Jo, I need you to focus," Dean implored, "you gotta stay with us, sweetheart... okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured him, though her voice denoted that perhaps even she did not believe her lie.

"Where'd it go?" Sam searched out of the car windows, shotgun poised in his hands as he surveyed the scenery they sped past. Though hellhounds were enormous creatures, they were incredibly fast, and he knew that the beast was more than capable of keeping pace with the Impala.

"Oh it's there," Dean assured his brother, wincing as a series of howls and furious wails punctuated his sentence. Sam pulled the nose of the shotgun back through the window, deciding that it was fruitless to waste ammunition firing at an invisible pursuer.

"What do we do when we get to the farm?" Sam inquired, his eyes locking with Dean's through the rearview mirror. His brother's grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he gulped before he attempted to respond.

"We get out, we make a break for the barn," Dean directed, glancing at Jo as she released a startled gasp.

"No," she interjected, shaking her head, "I can't... I can't do that... Dean... I..."

"Yes you can," Dean said firmly, reaching out with his free hand and grasping hers, "you can, and you will, Jo."

He watched her with obvious concern as she inhaled then blew out a long, steadying breath. Finally, she nodded in agreement and accepted the shotgun Sam passed to her. Memories of Carthage - the stench of blood and the searing pain of the beast's claws- invaded her senses, and she blinked to dispel further images from her mind.

"It'll be okay, Jo," Sam soothed, attempting to allay her fears. "Just stay right with us."

Pulling the car into a tight swerve back up the mud track toward the farm, Dean gritted his teeth as the hellhound threw itself against the passenger door. The scent of the hunters, perhaps of one in particular, was luring it to them just as Dean had predicted.

Jo stared straight ahead out of the windscreen, her eyes affixed on the barn which reared up on the horizon. The Impala picked up speed as they neared their destination, and Sam began to throw off his seatbelt in readiness to leap out of the car. Carefully, he extracted Delilah from her hiding place and shifted her over to the seat at his side so as to allow himself a clear path to the door. The dog whimpered and licked at his hand, and Sam ruffled her shaggy head without thinking.

"Almost there," Dean breathed, his eyes ticking continually to Jo as he willed her to hold herself together. Dean pressed his foot almost flat to the floor, driving the accelerator downwards and pushing the Impala's engine to the brink in the process.

"Come on baby, don't fail me now," Dean urged, his gaze on the side mirror; he watched clouds of dirt fly up into the air as the ground was disturbed by the hellhound's talons. They seemed to be pulling further away from the creature and Dean leaned forwards in his seat as he willed an extra few metres between themselves and their pursuer.

All too soon, Dean slammed his foot on the brake, and flung his door open.

"Now..." he shouted, his voice rising above the frenzied and yet delighted snarls of the hound, "go, go, go!"

The doors of the Impala flew open in perfect synchronicity as the hunters spilled out of the car. Sam, Dean and Jo tore towards the barn, the latter pair gripping each others' hands. Sam reached the door mere seconds before the others, and he grasped the latch with shaking hands. His palms, slick with sweat, slipped against the metal, and Sam was forced to wipe both hands against his trouser legs before attempting to open the door again.

"A little faster here, Sammy," Dean yelled, slotting Jo in between him and his brother as they stood. He knew that should the hellhound happen upon them before they could reach the safety of the inside of the barn, it would make a beeline for Jo.

Flinging the door wide open, the hunters wasted little time in pouring inside. Each of them spun around and trained their shotguns on the open doorway as they stepped back against the enclosure, and stared at the straw on the ground in search of movement.

A snarl alerted them to the beast's arrival, and they heard the hellhound sniff the air around it as though searching out one scent in particular. The creature bolted toward Jo, sending reams of straw flying up into the air."There!" Sam yelled, as all three simultaneously opened fire.

"Did we hit it?" Jo called out, her voice tight and shrill. Dean continued to empty rounds into the air in front of them, straining to detect whether the hellhound's wails sounded suitably pained. Sam's gaze ticked to the far side of the barn, where he noted a stack of paint tins pushed against the wall. With an idea beginning to form in his mind, Sam jerked his hand into his pocket and slipped out Ruby's demon knife. He nodded his head in his intended direction and nudged Dean in the ribs.

"Dean, cover me," he commanded, not awaiting a response from his brother as he pushed forwards and made a break for the paint cans, slashing at the air in front of himself with the knife as a precautionary measure.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted, jabbing out with the nose of the shotgun and failing to make a connection as he had hoped. Jo kicked out at the hellhound as the sound of snapping jaws followed Sam, and she yelped when the leg of her jean tore and trail of superficial scratches appeared on her calf.

"Jo, stay back," ordered Dean, his panic mounting as he listened to the familiar command spill from his lips; the same command he had uttered that day in Carthage before their mission had taken a turn for the worse.

The fear that had been so evident in Jo's eyes now steadily turned to rage, and holding the barrel of the gun tight against her body, she began blasting in the direction of the beast. Her tight lipped expression exhibited her fury. Images of her mother now dominated her thoughts, and Dean was mildly relieved to note her change in demeanor.

"Jo, take a step toward me," Sam directed, lifting the lid from a can of paint with the blade the knife. He stood up, poised with the can in hand, as he watched her take a tentative step toward him, and felt Dean's eyes burning into him.

"What are you doing, Sam?" Dean's tone was strained as he eyed the floor intently for evidence of the hound's footfalls.

"Trust me," Sam shouted in reassurance, nodding at Dean as Jo stepped hellhound's unearthly growl ripped through the air as it lunged toward Jo, the ground beneath its paws betraying its position.

Pushing Jo out of the way, Sam hurled the paint can at the creature, allowing himself a small sigh of relief as he saw his aim had been accurate, and the beast's invisible body was coated in white paint. Awaiting no further instruction, Dean and Jo opened fire, hitting the hell hound repeatedly in the head and chest.

"The Colt," Sam instructed, lobbing the empty can at the hellhound as it lunged towards him in retaliation. The can bounced harmlessly off the hound's muzzle and it continued forwards. Sam grunted as the creature dragged him to the ground, its teeth grasping his boot like an inescapable vice. Sam's body was tossed around the floor as the hellhound shook him, and his head connected hard with a wooden support beam nearby. His eyelids fluttered closed and his body grew visibly limp as he was rendered unconscious by the force of the blow.

Dean wrenched the Colt free from his pocket and aimed at the hound as it climbed atop the still body of his brother.

"Hey!" Dean screamed, his eyes blazing with untold fury as he looked upon the creature with evident hatred. Not only had it murdered countless innocent people over its lifetime, but it had also tasted his girlfriend's blood and hunted her scent; allowing it to live was just not an option. Dean cocked the safety catch and, before the hellhound could react, he pulled the trigger.

The single bullet whistled as it flew through the air, and there was high screeching yelp as it tore into the white daubed flank of the hellhound. The creature collapsed to the ground at the side of Sam, convulsing as a bizarre greenish light flashed across it's body.

Their relief was short lived however, as a blood curdling scream tore through the silence. Dean and Jo stared out of the open barn doors toward the house and almost immediately Dean was running again."Dean!" Jo called out urgently, halting his steps as she jogged up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder."Make sure Sam's alright," he gestured over toward his unconscious brother, trusting that Jo would take good care of him."What if it's... her?" Jo asked gravely, afraid to allow Dean to face the demon alone. Casting a fleeting glance at Sam, she licked her lips nervously, realising that splitting up was unavoidable now.

Gesturing to the Colt he still brandished in his hand, Dean smiled self-assuredly and peered one final time over at the carcass of the hellhound. Pressing a relieved kiss to Jo's temple, he started on his way again, cautiously approaching the back porch of the farm where the door lay ajar.

Dean squinted as he struggled to make out the scene in the kitchen through the chink in the door. A brunette female stood with her back to the door, her head inclined towards the floor at her feet where Dean could just about make out the corpse of a man with his head twisted at an odd angle.

"Come on in Dean," Meg drawled without so much as turning. She glanced down with feigned interest to examine her nails as Dean pushed the door fully open and strode into the kitchen. Meg's eyes ticked to the Colt but her smug grin never once waned. She hooked her thumb in the direction of the man, evidently dead, laying at her feet. A purplish bruise had formed at the base of his neck, and his unblinking, bespectacled eyes stared blankly up at the face of his killer. His hair was a mass of orange curls, and he sported a thick, matted beard that gave him the appearance of a crazed mountain man in Dean's opinion.

"Hope you don't mind, but I took care of your suspect for you," Meg declared, looking anything but repentant. Dean shrugged, forcing his gaze away from the corpse of the man, who he knew had ultimately deserved his fate.

"Don't expect a 'thank you' but it's no skin off my nose," Dean answered, a smile twitching at his lips as he added, "oh and, hope you don't mind, but I took care of your pet."

"Plenty more where she came from... as you well remember," Meg said with a dangerous smile, planting her hands on her hips as she eyed the Colt, "before you shoot me, I know something that might interest you."

"I doubt that," Dean smiled flippantly, although his curiosity had been admittedly peaked.

"Really?" Meg purred, arching a dark eyebrow as she teased, "even if it's about your little girlfriend?"

Dean blanched, a familiar sense of dread descending upon him, "You leave her alone."

"Hmmm... I don't think so," she replied, grinning triumphantly at Dean's panicked expression. "Jo Harvelle. Yeah, that's right. See, last time I saw her she was pretty badly torn up- I'm sure you remember. So when I saw her again, I have to admit Dean, I was kind of surprised. So, I did a little checking and... guess what?"

Dean barely flinched, assuring himself that whatever words spewed from Meg's lips would ultimately prove to be lies. Meg sighed and rolled her eyes almost playfully.

"This is where you say _'what'_?" She smirked as she realised that Dean was not about to play along with her game, and so she merely continued nonetheless. "And I say... _she's not meant to be here."_

Taking a step toward him and ignoring the gun trained on her, a satisfied smile settled on her lips as she added in a whisper, "Jo Harvelle was supposed to die in Carthage."

Dean faltered, his eyes widening as his grip tightened on the Colt; however, he found himself suddenly a lot less willing to use it.

"You lying bitch," Dean fumed, growling the words from the corner of his mouth and glaring at Meg through eyes narrowed to slits. The demon shook her head, and Dean noted her genuine expression with mounting horror.

"If you like," she answered with a shrug, opening her arms wide to indicate that Dean should shoot at any moment. A look of triumph crossed Meg's face as she added, "Not so eager to kill me now, huh?"

"Why should I believe you?" Dean demanded, wrestling with the decision as to whether he should lower the Colt or simply shoot Meg whilst he still had the chance. Demons were seldom truthful, but there was something in her demeanor now that alarmed Dean and perhaps gave him pause for thought.

"I guess you shouldn't, but you do," Meg gloated, tipping her chin defiantly and winking at Dean. "A little birdie tells me that someone altered the course of fate. Joanna Beth should be in pieces right now, along with her mother."

"You're lying," Dean spat, swallowing hard as he tried to gauge the validity of her claims.

"No Dean, this is even better than a lie; this is the truth," she folded her arms across her chest as she turned her back on the door, her smile growing wider as she added off-handedly, "I just thought it might be a little friendly warning incase somebody tries to... _fix_... things?"

Dean's heart pounded, about set to burst from his chest, and he did not look up as a floorboard creaked behind Meg.

Meg wheeled around just in time to see the victorious look flash across Jo's features as she plunged Ruby's demon hunting knife into Meg's abdomen. The woman's mouth fell open and she hissed in evident pain as Jo buried the knife to the hilt in her flesh, and twisted the handle for good measure.

"How does it feel?" she demanded, her voice low but emotionless as she watched the countenance of the demon flash across Meg's face. She tumbled to her knees and, as the hellhound had done before her, began to convulse whilst a visible electric current crackled through her body.

"That's for my Mom," Jo spat, nudging the demon's body with the toe of her boot, and finding not even a shred of satisfaction in the murder she had just committed; the demon who had taken her mother may be dead, but that fact did nothing to alter the weight of Jo's grief, or the fact that she had just murdered the demon's innocent vessel.

Dean stared down at the body, his gaze flitting between the demon's now lifeless shell, and his girlfriend's ashen face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, watching as Jo merely stood there, the knife held limply in her hand as blood dripped from the tip of the nodded, glancing suddenly behind her as she heard Sam's approaching footsteps.

"Is everything..." he began, his eyes widening as he saw Meg slumped in a pool of blood."She had it coming," Dean reasoned, wondering just how much evil Meg had carried out whilst in this vessel alone.

"Let's get out of here," Jo urged, glancing down at her hand as Delilah licked at her wrist and nuzzled her nose into Jo's palm. The cowering dog had obviously felt it safe to emerge from the safety of the car, and was now as anxious as her human counterparts to leave the farm behind. Dean nodded, replacing the Colt into his pocket as he fell into step beside Jo.

"What was all that about?" Jo pressed, wondering why Dean had been engaged in conversation with the demon when he had the Colt in his hand and a clear shot.

"Nothing," Dean shook his head, unable to dispel the unease that Meg's taunts had left him with. Taking Jo's hand, Dean forced a smile and ushered her back toward the Impala.

**x-x-x**

Jo had slept most of the journey home, and Dean assumed that she had perhaps found some sort of release in the death of Meg, and the hellhound. However, he knew that should she wish to talk about any of it, she would seek out his ear, and so he resolved not to push the matter. Instead, he allowed her some much needed rest whilst he and Sam took turns in driving.

The return trip was a quiet affair, and Dean had to bite his own tongue several times to stop himself from repeating Meg's warning to his brother. Although Dean inevitably told Sam everything, something about the situation did not feel quite right, and Dean decided to call on Castiel for the answers to his questions before unduly alarming anyone else.

When they eventually arrived back at the roadhouse, Sam disappeared into the kitchen to rustle up dinner, whilst Dean downed a couple of shots of whiskey at the bar. He wiped his hand across the back of his mouth and peered out of the side window, where he could see Jo walking towards the oak tree that she had planted a year ago in memory of her mother. In her hand, she clutched a posy of wild flowers, and Dean knew that this venture to what Jo viewed as her mother's grave would be a cathartic one for her. Hopping down from the barstool, he hesitantly left the roadhouse, and followed after his girlfriend.

Jo was kneeling in the dirt beside the tree when Dean reached her and she did not bother to look up as arrived at her side.

"Mom hated flowers, she was never really into all that stuff," Jo shrugged, placing the posy down and drawing back from the narrow trunk, "but I can't think of anything else to leave here, ya know?"

" I'm sure she'd appreciate the gesture," Dean stated. He had known Ellen well enough to realise that any small act or token of love from her beloved daughter would have been gratefully accepted.

"I thought I'd feel better," Jo said quietly, "I thought once the hellhound was gone... once Meg was gone, that I'd feel something... anything. But I don't. Because nothing I do is gonna bring her back."

Jo climbed to her feet and flashed him a weak smile as she brushed a tear away from her cheek.

"No, it's not." Dean agreed, drawing her into his arms and staring down at the bunch of flowers, deep in thought, "but we finished the job, just like your mom would have wanted."

Jo nodded, letting her head fall against Dean's chest as he rubbed her back, "So... about that little vacation."

Jo looked up in surprise and narrowed her eyes, "You were serious about that?"

"Definitely," he replied, nodding vigorously to punctuate his point. Jo considered his answer for a moment, indecision flashing across her face as she gnawed on her bottom lip.

"Come on," Dean pleaded, "it'll be fun. Just you, me, a little cabin in the middle of nowhere- pizza, a six pack, and side one of Zeppelin four."

Jo grinned and punched him lightly in his bicep at the direct reference to a time now long past.

"I don't know Dean," she murmured, brushing her hair behind her ears and shooting a concerned glance at the roadhouse.

"Sammy will take care of business here, and Bobby can keep him in line," Dean soothed, suddenly seizing Jo by the shoulders and peering earnestly into her eyes. The intensity and desperation reflected there shocked Jo.

"Please?"

Jo nodded her head in reluctant agreement and, slipping her hand inside Dean's, allowed herself to be lead back towards the roadhouse, from which the smell of strong chilli emanated. The dish had been a speciality of her mother's and one that since Ellen's death, Sam had regularly been striving to recreate; particularly when he felt Jo needed some consoling. A smile teased her lips and she sniffed the air jokingly, watching Dean return her smile with somewhat less conviction.

Dean held the door open for Jo, resisting the urge to usher her inside, before both closing and locking it behind them. Dean peered out into the growing dusk from the window set high into the front door, and frowned. Try as he may, he could not forget Meg's words, nor dispel the fear that they had stoked within him. From the back room came the distinct sounds of laughter and plates clinking as Jo set about helping Sam to serve up their meal.

Although he had attempted to summon Castiel numerous times already, the angel had yet to appear, and Dean felt a growing sense of trepidation the longer he stewed over Meg''s claim. Distracting himself by arranging their getaway had only proven a temporary success, and whilst Dean tried to look forward to the opportunity to take a little much needed rest and relaxation time away with Jo, his thoughts veered constantly in a far less pleasing direction.

"Cas... please?" he tried again, silently berating himself for having been so hasty as to punch the angel on their last meeting. Whilst Castiel was not forthcoming with his emotions, Dean guessed he was more than capable of holding a grudge, hence his current MIA status.

Sighing resolutely, Dean let the blind drop down over the window once again, before making his way toward the kitchen.

Affixing a convincingly carefree smile upon his face, Dean went off in search of his family.

**The End**

**(Next Episode - 'Heads Will Roll')**


	16. Chapter 16

_**Authors' Note – Thank you all for the reviews we have so far, we really love to hear your thoughts. Who thinks we could get up to 100 reviews by chapter 20? Pretty please? We'll even throw in some smut for you to sweeten the deal.**_

_**Oh, and recent breaking news - Alona Tal confirmed on Twitter that Jo Harvelle is returning to Season 7 of Supernatural. (*Happy dance*)**_

_**This chapter is rated M. Underage people... go away *stern faces***_

_**Episode Six – Part One**_

'_**Heads Will Roll'**_

_**x-x-x**_

For the first time in a very long time, the sudden fluttering of wings was a welcome sound to Dean Winchester. He whirled on his heel to face the closed doorway of his bedroom, in front of which now stood Castiel, his hands clasped before him. His frown was pensive, and something about his entire demeanour sent Dean's defensive shields rocketing up.

"Cas..." Dean stammered. He had evidently not expected the angel to heed his call, which Cas appeared to have been ignoring for the past several days since the hunters had made their return from Carthage. Dean had assumed the reason for Castiel's absence had been his irritation at the fact that the last time they had met, Dean had bestowed him with a blistering right hook. However, the quirk of Castiel's brow and the look in his eye told Dean that his suspicions had been far off the mark.

"Where've you been?" Dean demanded, striving to maintain an even tone and disguise all traces of anger that threatened to bubble to the surface. The angel regarded Dean in silence, and his eyes ticked to the balled up t-shirt that Dean clutched in his hand. On the bed in front of him lay an open suitcase, which for the last thirty minutes Dean had been attempting to pack in preparation for the long weekend break that he and Jo were about to embark upon.

"Gathering information," Castiel replied evasively, giving no indication as to where or from whom."About?" Dean probed, licking his lips nervously as he tried and failed to read the expression on the angel's face.

"Joanna," Castiel stated, and his matter-of-fact tone instantly angered the hunter, "I knew what you wished to ask me, and I felt I could neither confirm nor deny the demon's claim until I had spoken with those in charge."

"Alright... so?" Dean ran his hand over the back of his neck, his breath halting as he awaited Castiel's reply, "was she telling the truth? I mean... should Jo... should she have uh..."

"Should she be dead?" Cas interjected, no tact or diplomacy prevailing in his tone, "we are not aware that Jo's fate has been changed."

"So..." Dean blew out the breath he had been holding and folded his arms across his chest, "Meg was lying?"

"It would appear so," Castiel confirmed with a curt nod.

He frowned as Dean advanced toward him and suddenly enveloped him in a brief hug."And you're not screwing with me, Cas? I know you guys have played us before, but I'm begging you man, don't... don't do it over Jo."

Cas cleared his throat, uncomfortable at the display of human emotion, and simply nodded in confirmation, "I would not mislead you. I know that Jo is... important to you."

Dean gave a weak smile, realising that Castiel's words did not even come close to describing his feelings for the woman in question. As he glanced up to bestow his thanks upon the angel, he found himself alone once again in the bedroom.

Wiping his hand over his face, he smiled in abject relief, about to return to his previous task when the door opened to reveal Jo on the threshold."Where you talking to yourself just now?" she inquired, walking over toward Dean as she eyed him in confusion.

"Maybe," Dean shrugged, suddenly seizing her in his arms and pulling her into an embrace.

"Dean?" Jo giggled, looping her arms around his neck as he lifted her off her feet and planted a fleeting kiss on her lips. "Are you okay?"

"Absolutely fine," he assured her, his tone husky. Dean squeezed her rear before lifting her easily several inches from the floor using both hands. He instigated a gentle kiss, allowing his fingertips to slip beneath the hem of Jo's shirt as she became distracted by his lips. Dean fumbled with the clasp of her bra but, as he attempted to work the hooks free, Jo drew back in protest.

"Dean..." she chided, gazing up at her boyfriend in reproach, "you're not even done packing yet."

"Aw come on Jo, we still got a little time before we need to be on the road," coaxed Dean, attempting to pull Jo back against him. However, she deftly sidestepped his grasping hands, and poked her tongue out in a playful gesture.

"Finish packing... we've got a two day drive ahead of us, Dean," she all but whined, sighing as he sidled over to her and looped his arms around her waist.

"Fine," he huffed, leaning in and pressing a somewhat more-chaste kiss to her lips.

"Thank you," she beamed, pecking him on the cheek before she marched back out of the room to begin drilling Sam on suitable bar protocol in her absence.

Although Jo trusted Sam implicitly, even with her own life, she viewed leaving the roadhouse much in the same manner that a parent may regard the prospect of leaving their offspring for the first time- no matter how capable the hands, worry was certain to be an ever present factor in the equation.

Shaking his head and sighing, Dean could not help the smile that lingered on his lips long after Jo's departure and, with renewed enthusiasm he finally resumed packing his bag.

**x-x-x**

Two days later, and after a twenty five hour drive across six states, the Impala finally arrived at it's vacation destination.

Exiting the car, Jo stared up at the quaint, raised cabin and strode over toward Dean, who had begun retrieving their bags from the trunk with a strange sense of urgency."So, our weekend away... free from the supernatural," Jo grinned as she picked up one of the bags and stared up at Dean with an impish smile, "and you bring me to Sleepy Hollow?"

"What?" Dean protested, feeling his cheeks colour under Jo's amused scrutiny. "The place is 'sleepy' by name. How rowdy can it get round here?"

Jo arched an eyebrow, planting her hands on her hips as she demanded, "Seriously, Dean?"

At Dean's clueless responding look she continued, "Sleepy Hollow... home of the headless horseman?"

"Oh that," Dean scoffed, chuckling as he began to haul the first of their bags towards the straight wooden staircase attached to the side of the cabin. He called over his shoulder as he walked, "Urban legend. And the movie sucked."

"Are you kidding?" Jo shot back, swinging a bag up onto her shoulder and following Dean up the tall staircase. "That movie was epic."

"No, the movie blew, you just liked it because of that Depp guy," he accused with a roll of his eyes.

Dumping the bags unceremoniously on the ground, Dean lifted the stone flower pot beside the cabin's door and produced a key with a flourish. Quickly opening the door, Dean gestured for Jo to enter, as he followed behind with their bags and a grin belaying his own sense of satisfaction. She scanned the living room area with a nod of approval, and grinned as she spied the enormous stone fireplace and suitably rustic furnishings scattered throughout. Several other doors led off from the lounge area however, they were all closed, preventing the couple from identifying their various usages.

"This is nice," Jo acknowledged, a grin sliding into place as she felt Dean's arms enfold around her. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and followed her gaze around the room, happy that the cabin seemed to be in good shape despite its owner's lengthy absences.

"Yeah, well, Curtis takes good care of the place, comes up here between hunts to do a little fishing," he stated, resting his chin on Jo's shoulder and nuzzling her neck affectionately.

"No, I meant... you and me," she felt a blush rise up her cheeks as she continued, "it's nice that we can do this, just the two of us. I mean, I love Sam, you know I do but..."

"Jo," Dean interrupted, turning her in his arms and smiling in hopes of ending her babbling, "this weekend is our time, okay? A little 'alone time', like a regular couple."

A suitably appalled expression settled on her features as she checked, "You're not gonna make me go fishing are you?"A deep chuckle reverberated from Dean's chest and he arched an eyebrow as he pulled her closer against him before responding.

"Sweetheart, I hadn't planned on us leaving the cabin."

"Now that sounds like a vacation I could really enjoy," Jo murmured, her eyes trained upon Dean's lips. They moved simultaneously into their next kiss, and drew apart a few moments later, both wearing identical grins of excitement.

"Four whole days, just you, me, and the roaring open fire," Dean replied, leering suggestively at Jo as she glanced over at the log fireplace complete with a faux bearskin rug spread on the floor before it.

"I hope there's a decent takeout restaurant in this town then," quipped Jo, sliding her hands into Dean's back pockets and leaning back in order to gaze up at him.

A brief look of surprise crossed his face as Dean said, "Oh, yeah, about that. I booked us a table tonight at the local wine bar. Pretentious, ridiculously expensive... the kind of place we usually end up barred from. Thought it would make a nice change."

Jo blinked as if she had misheard ,and drew back to look up at him in surprise, "You're taking me out to dinner?"

Dean shrugged, leaning down again and replacing the smirk on Jo's lips with a kiss.

"I am," he stated, brushing another kiss against the tip of her nose, "wine, candles, pissy waiters... the whole nine yards."

"Was that Sam's idea?" she teased, wondering if the younger Winchester had leant a hand in suggesting the dinner date that was so uncharacteristic of their usual outings, which generally consisted of drinks at a seedy bar followed by cartons of take-out food.

"No," Dean rolled his eyes, faltering momentarily as he tried to express his feelings on the matter, " I like taking you out, okay? You're my girl Jo, and I like showing you off. I wish we got to do regular stuff more often, but..."

"That's not who we are," she finished, and punctuated her words with a kiss, "I know. And that's okay."

Dean nodded, although clearly remained unconvinced on the issue, "Sometimes, I just think you deserve more than ..."

Jo shook her head, lifting her fingertips to Dean's lips to silence him. Her breath ghosted against the shell of his ear as she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, "Deal with it Winchester, you're all I want."

"Well alright then," Dean murmured, brushing the tip of his nose against Jo's and grinning. "We still got a little time before we need to get dressed for dinner."

"Oh yeah?" Jo inquired, looping her arms around Dean's neck and affixing a mock puzzled expression upon her face as she continued, "what did you have in mind?"

Dean chuckled, bending down and sweeping Jo up into his arms. He kicked the front door of the cabin closed, and set out towards what he assumed to be the bedroom.

"Maybe a little undressing," Dean whispered, crushing his lips against Jo's. The tip of his tongue explored her mouth, and he bit down lightly on her bottom lip, leaving it pink and plumped.

She moaned softly in response, suddenly giggling against his lips as he deftly avoided banging her head on the door jamb."Smooth, Dean," she teased, laughing gleefully as he threw her into the centre of the bed and pulled his shirt up over his head. Jo watched it land on the floor with an escalating sense of amusement, and her eyes eagerly swept over his sculpted chest.

Crawling up across the bed towards her, Dean leant up over Jo, one hand curving around her hip as he brushed her hair back from her face with the other."You know, I don't think I have anything to wear tonight," Jo mused, already finding her concentration and train of thought ebbing away as Dean's lips descended upon her neck.

"Good thing I thought of everything then, huh?" Dean replied, a thoroughly smug grin spread across his face as he returned his attention to dragging a trail of kisses across her collarbone.

"Mmmm," Jo responded in careless agreement, feeling every nerve in her body awakening to his touch and the heavy, yet comforting weight of him above her.

"Slipped a sexy little black number into your bag when you were nagging Sammy about the taps," Dean whispered, sweeping his fingertips across the plain of Jo's stomach and beginning to toy with the button that secured her jeans.

"See... I'm lucky to have you..." Jo managed to hiss as Dean's fingertips slipped inside the waistband of her jeans and began to trace the top of her panties.

Dean looked up at Jo, a hungry and wicked smile upon his lips as he replied, "Baby, you're about to get a whole lot luckier."

**x-x-x**

Incandescent was the only word Dean could think of to accurately describe the woman sitting across the table from him. The gently flickering candles illuminated her skin, highlighting the glow that had bathed her cheeks all afternoon.

Tilting her head to regard him, Jo smiled as she found Dean peering at her intently. He reached out on impulsive to enclose his hand around hers, and Jo brushed her thumb across the back of his hand."What?" She frowned, suddenly looking down at her dress self consciously and then shrugging in confusion as Dean continued to stare. Shaking his head, Dean grinned and gave her hand a squeeze.

"Nothing, you just... you look beautiful," he stammered, his heart soaring at the beatific smile that settled on her face in reply. She shuffled closer across the curved booth and placed her hand on his knee as she brushed her lips against his, whispering a 'thank you' as she withdrew and her lips hovered over his cheek.

Feeling eyes burning into him from across the room, Dean tore his gaze away from Jo and found the smiling faces of an elderly couple beaming back at them. Raising his eyebrows and offering a polite smile, Dean turned his attention back to his dinner partner, and slid his arm around her waist to draw her closer. Whilst public displays of affection had always made him uncomfortable, it was somehow different with Jo, and Dean felt an inexplicable need to be near her. Whilst this was something that had to be ignored in the more dangerous moments of their everyday life, a vacation gave them the freedom to act like a 'regular' couple, and Dean did not intend to waste these few precious days of normality.

"This place is amazing," Jo observed, her eyes sweeping the room and taking in the rustic decor, and real crystal chandeliers. "Expensive, though."

Dean shrugged, his grin widening as he declared, "Only the best."

Jo nodded, sucking on her teeth in order to hide a smirk as she murmured, "In that case, I think I'll get the cavier to start, followed by the baked lobster, and since we're on vacation, maybe a big ol' hunk of the Madagascan vanilla cheesecake."

Dean quirked a brow, his expression souring somewhat as he replied, "Ok, fine. Curtis did a job for the owner last summer. He put in a good word, and we're getting fifty percent off the bill."

"See, don't you feel better now that you've been honest?" Jo teased, reaching across and entwining her hand with Dean's underneath the table. Dean simply grunted, doing his best to feign an irritated frown that no matter how hard he tried, he could not maintain. Finally, he conceded to smile at Jo.

"I'm still getting the lobster though," she replied, returning her attention to the menu which was spread open on the table before her.

Dean grinned and leaned in to kiss her, his fingertips drifting across her face and down her neck as she sighed against his lips. Nuzzling her cheek, he inhaled the sweet, vanilla scent of her perfume and smiled as his mouth hovered above her earlobe.

"You make me really happy," he confessed, his forehead pressed against hers as she appeared momentarily taken aback by his words. "Happier than I ever thought I could be."

Dean shrugged, easily recalling a time when he had figured that his life would be devoid of anything good or lasting. Dean had envisioned his future as a further series of heartaches and disappointments, whilst he and Sam continued to carry the burdens their father had unwittingly placed upon them.

Jo smiled, blinking self-consciously as she felt tears prickling at her eyes. She had never anticipated provoking such a response from Dean Winchester, who was not after all known for his Hallmark moments. Yet his sincerity and the clear adoration in his eyes instantly struck her. Jo's response died on her lips however, as the loud jeering of the group of high school guys at a table nearby shattered their romantic interlude. Rolling her eyes and hurriedly skirting past them, a blonde haired waitress approached Dean and Jo, pencil and pad poised ready in her hand. She ignored the catcalls and lewd comments she received from the group with an obviously practiced air, tossing her head as she passed directly by their table.

"Are you guys ready to order?" the waitress asked, affixing an obviously well rehearsed smile upon her face. However, her attention was immediately diverted from her customers as the table of guys began to whistle and yell loudly in a clear bid to irritate her. Whilst the young girl bristled and her lips pinched together, she attempted to refrain from looking across at her merry tormentors.

"Hey Lilly!" one of the group, a tall, well-built boy wearing a letterman jacket, yelled as he cupped his hands around his mouth. "Want to hear a new one?"

Without bothering to await a reply, he shot an amused glance at his comrades before continuing, "What's the difference between a blonde, and a walrus?"

The waitress, presumably named Lilly, continued to stare at Dean and Jo, her smile unwavering, despite the tears that shone behind her bespectacled green eyes.

"So, can I get you guys any appetisers or..." the girl began, her voice barely above a whisper now.

"One's got a moustache and smells of fish..." the guy called, sniggering already despite the fact he had yet to deliver his punch line, "and the other lives in the sea."

The table erupted into a raucous roar of laughter, some of the group proceeding to point at the waitress as others climbed to their feet in order to deliver a round of applause to their undeniably gutsy friend. Dean glared at the group of kids, his eyes narrowed to furious slits. He had met guys like that before, who believed they were a cut above the average for one reason or another, and were subsequently unafraid to torment anyone they believed to be beneath them. Dean had never once been on the right side of such men, as his instincts as a hunter spurred him onward to favour the underdog and protect the helpless, which in this case he gathered to include harassed teenaged waitresses. A single tear rolled down the girl's cheek, but she continued to stare expectantly at Jo and Dean, her pencil hovering above her notepad as she awaited their order; it was almost as though she had conditioned herself against such attacks, and Dean felt the fury building in his gut at the thought.

"Are those guys bothering you, miss?" he demanded, refusing to lower his tone as he glared at the table of high school seniors.

Lilly shook her head, trying her best to muster a smile as she drew in a deep breath and gripped the pencil in her hand that little bit tighter. Dean and Jo exchanged helpless glances, each not feeling particularly averse to addressing the table of miscreants. However, the waitress continued on despite their barbs, and so the couple relayed their order and shot her sympathetic smiles instead.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jo asked kindly, noting how the girl's hand trembled as she held onto the notepad, and she drummed the tip of the pencil against her wrist in a clearly nervous gesture.

"I'm fine, really," Lilly replied, shrugging as she added, "kind of used to it, you know?"

Dean frowned, finding her reply wholly unacceptable, "You maybe talk to your boss about it?"

Lilly laughed softly and closed her eyes as she pictured the rowdy group behind her in her mind's eye, "The uh... the guy in the seat nearest the window... that's the boss' son. I'll be right back with your drinks. If you need anything, just ask."

Affixing her patented smile back onto her face, Lilly headed over toward the bar, thankful that the majority of the boys seemed distracted for the moment by a group of college girls walking by the window.

"Poor kid," Dean shook his head, glancing across at the table in question and scowling as he intercepted a conversation between two of the young men that clearly referenced Jo.

"It's a cross we waitresses have to bear," Jo quipped, grinning a little sadly at Dean as she realised that the good natured taunting she had received when working at her mother's roadhouse had been trivial compared to what some other women in the job endured. The hunters who had frequented her parents' bar had always been far too considerate and respectful of Ellen Harvelle to truly give Jo a tough time. Their barbs and jokes centred mainly around referencing Jo's awkward pre-pubescent years, which most of the regular hunters had been around to witness.

"Yeah, well, they carry on much longer and I'm going to seriously start risking my fifty percent off," Dean threatened, folding his hands on the tabletop and catching the eye of the apparent ring leader of the group. He was unsurprised to note that this was the son of the restaurant owner, who probably felt at ease enough in the setting to say and do what he wished without fear of consequences.

"We'll tip her big," Jo said, squeezing Dean's hand and offering him a smile that sent a shiver coursing down his spine.

"What say we skip dessert?" Dean smiled suggestively, his hand trailing up her side as he pulled her closer to whisper in her ear, "there's a six pack in the fridge and Zepellin IV in the tape deck. "Jo laughed merrily and she hummed in amusement as his lips found her neck, "You're seriously passing up the dessert cart? Because I think I saw cherry pie on the menu."

Dean smirked and offered her a shrug, his eyes dancing as he drank in the sight of her, "We can get it to go."

"You just think of everything, don't you?" Jo arched an eyebrow, leaning into his side as he hugged her then kissed the top of her head.

"Well, we Winchesters are famed for our ingenuity," he answered with a wink, ignoring the snort of amusement his statement provoked.

Jo's attention was drawn to the opposite end of the room suddenly as the waitress, approaching with their drinks balanced precariously on a tray, started towards them. Concentrating on reaching her table, Lilly failed to notice as one of the boys leaned out of the booth they occupied and stuck his leg out clear in her path. Lilly's mouth opened into an 'o' of surprise as the tray flew from her hand and skittered across the room, dousing the carpet in wine and water, and the waitress herself was sent sprawling across the floor. The entire table erupted into whoops of laughter, and Lilly crawled to her feet, her bottom lip trembling and eyes watering dangerously.

"You jerk," she spat, rounding on the guilty member of the party, who was sniggering behind his hand.

Dean rushed to his feet, gently grasping the waitress' elbow as he helped her to gather up the tray and the shards of glass from the floor. Jo picked up a napkin from the table and began scooping up the pieces of glass. She shot a suitably poisonous glare at the nearest of the guys, who chose the moment of her bending to make a wholly inappropriate remark about her dress.

"Hey!" Dean glowered, rounding on the young man with fury flashing in his eyes, "you want me to kick your sorry ass?"

Jo placed her hand over Dean's and shook her head pointedly; although touched by Dean's readiness to defend her, she was far from helpless, and more than capable of brushing off such harmless if not ill-advised remarks.

"I'm so sorry, I'll go get more drinks," Lilly babbled, attempting to smooth her hair back into the confines of her ponytail.

"Don't worry about it," Jo said with a reassuring smile directed at the girl, "take your time."

Lilly nodded and scurried back towards the kitchen, carrying the now useless tray against her chest as though it could act as some form of body armour. The snide laughter continued and Lilly dug her nails into her palm to prevent herself from breaking down in the middle of the restaurant. She knew that her cheeks had already flushed an embarrassing crimson, but she would be damned if she would give Joe Maconi and his gang the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

She had almost reached the kitchen doorway when another young man moved to intercept her. Lilly peered up at her co-worker Jake through a haze of tears, inexplicably angry by his sudden appearance.

"Hey Lil, you ok?" Jake inquired in his characteristically lazy manner. He spoke in a way that suggested he was either continually high or else incapable of experiencing the full range of human emotions; as Lilly knew the former to be untrue, she could only assume the latter was the case.

"Fine, Jake," she snapped, hardly caring that her tone was harsher than it needed to be. The only thought occupying Lilly's mind was reaching the kitchen before she crumbled completely, and what little shreds of a reputation she had left were set ablaze once and for all. Brushing past the disgruntled boy, Lilly pushed into the kitchen, leaving the door swinging wildly in her wake.

"Dean?" Jo said gently, smiling as she cajoled him with her elbow.

"Yeah?" he muttered, his gaze focused on the table of young men across the room. The fact that he yearned to teach them a lesson was all but written across his face.

"Dean?" Jo tried again, sliding her hand up his thigh and leaning her head in front of him to block his view, "you want to look at your date instead of the bunch of assholes across the room?"

She grinned, clearly intercepting the murderous glare currently present on his chuckled and placed his hand over hers, "I just wanted this to be a nice night, you know?"

"It will be," Jo stated, ducking her head as if to kiss him, "I promise."

Pressing her lips to his, she sighed in satisfaction as Dean returned her kiss, clearly forgetting his homicidal intentions if only for a moment.

The rest of the evening passed in a haze of pleasant conversation, copious quantities of house wine, and food that Dean declared to be well worth the pre-dinner show. Their waitress served them with no further catastrophes and her tormentors left when the manager insisted they had overstayed their welcome. After paying their bill, Dean slipped his arm through Jo's and led her out into the cool night air, all the while whispering about the cabin that awaited them, the log fire he intended to ignite, and the game of strip poker that she had no chance of winning.

**x-x-x**

Leaning back against the wooden railings that ran parallel across the bridge, Nick exhaled what he thought to be an impressive cloud of smoke from the cigarette pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

The six teenagers often frequented the infamous Sleepy Hollow Bridge on a Friday night, when the promise of the weekend beckoned and one or more of them had managed to score some alcohol from their parents' liquor cabinet. The bottle currently being passed to and fro was particularly expensive, twenty year old Chianti, that Joe had lifted from his father's cellar in the hopes that its absence would go unnoticed. Although the taste was far from what the group had grown accustomed to, it was alcohol nonetheless, and served the purpose they required it for.

"Hey, Nicky, quit hogging the bottle," Joe protested, tossing his cigarette over the side of the bridge and stepping up onto the bottom rail as he leant over and began hocking up large quantities of spit and mucus.

"You see that waitress' face?" Nick demanded with a smirk, taking a last swig of the alcohol before handing it to his friend, "she hit the floor like... wham... that was like, so funny!"

He screeched in mocking amusement, taking a second cigarette from his pocket and passing it off to the guy on his left, whose name escaped him for the moment."Yeah, but that dude, man... that dude was lucky my old man was in tonight, because you know I'd have kicked his ass!" Joe stated, grinning as his friends greeted his bravado with rapturous agreement.

"Hell yeah," Nick replied, reaching down near his feet and breaking a can of beer free from the six pack on the ground, "but that chick he was with... I'd tap that."

He smirked, making the outline of a female body in the air before him and thrusting his hips in a crude gesture. His friends laughed and jeered along with him, and he stumbled as he high fived his neighbour, stubbing his foot into a wooden beam in the process."Jamie!" Nick yelled, catching the attention of one of the other boys, who was currently collapsed in a drunken stupor against the railings. The bottle was being passed along the line of boys, but was currently in the possession of the youth in question.

None of the boys noticed the sudden wind that engulfed the bridge, nor the swirl of leaves that swept across their feet. They continued drinking and talking, blissfully unaware of the sound of hooves from far off in the distance.

**x-x-x**

Neither the poker game that Dean had promised, nor indeed the deck of cards contained in their luggage, materialised. The two hunters stumbled through the doorway of the cabin, both somewhat intoxicated and neither really caring. Their hushed laughter rose on the night air, and Dean pressed one finger to his lips as he shushed Jo, who leaned heavily against him whilst he fumbled in his pocket for the front door key.

"Where the hell..." Dean muttered, emitting a low purr in his throat as Jo began to nibble on his earlobe, and her lips brushed against his skin.

"Hurry up..." she breathed, sliding her hand across Dean's abdomen and then beginning to toy with the fly of his dress pants in a teasing fashion. Dean let out a quiet yelp of surprise, and redoubled his effort to recover his keys and gain entry to the cabin. By the time he found purchase on the lock and managed to adequately twist the key within, Jo had already slipped his jacket from his shoulders and promptly discarded it on the floor of the lounge.

Dean kicked off his shoes as Jo slammed the door shut with her elbow, and they quickly gravitated back into each other's arm, lips frantically and repeatedly crashing together. Sliding his hand up Jo's back, Dean's fingertips travelled up to the nape of her neck and into her hair. He carefully removed the metal grip holding her hair in place and watched in satisfaction as a cascade of blonde waves tumbled down past her shoulders.

Tossing the clip onto the nearby table, he drew her closer, peppering her cheek and jaw with kisses before once again seeking out her lips.

Breaking away momentarily, the couple exchanged significant smiles before Jo took Dean's hand and led him back toward the fireplace.

**x-x-x**

"Hey, what say we go back and slash that bitch's tyres, huh?" Nick slurred, tripping over his own untied shoelace as he stumbled toward his friends.

"What's with you and that waitress, man?" a fellow reveler demanded, wincing as Joe slapped him across the back of the neck in reply.

"She's a prissy little bitch," Nick replied, clinking beer cans with Joe who nodded in vigorous agreement.

"Seriously thinks she's like God's gift or somethin'..." Joe slurred, his eyes ticking to Robbie, the most sober of their party, who seemed to be staring into the distance. His cigarette smoldered in his hand, but Robbie continued peering across the expanse of the dimly lit bridge at something that had escaped the notice of the other boys.

"Yeah..." Nick muttered, belching loudly and then dissolving into laughter. He chugged back the content of his beer can, before crushing it against his forehead and then tossing the rumpled metal disk over the side of the bridge into the river.

"Hey... guys..." Robbie muttered, slapping Joe in the centre of the chest, his eyes never once wavering from the distance. "Do you see that?"

**x-x-x**

Dean lowered the zip at the back of Jo's dress with ease, his lips continually massaging her own with fervor as he worked. Jo held her arms straight above her head, allowing Dean to slip the dress off her before discarding it on the floor at their feet. Dean grinned, pausing for a moment in order for his eyes to sweep Jo's body and take in the sight of her matching fuchsia pink underwear, and the smooth contours of her skin. The faded, silvery scars on her abdomen, an ever present reminder of Carthage, were illuminated by the light of the flames, but did not succeed in making Jo any less beautiful in Dean's eyes.

The couple continued to walk back towards the fireplace, entangled in each others arms, their destination the luxurious rug that rested on the floor. The flames lapped at the logs already in place, but Dean was beginning to suffer from a very different heat entirely. His hands slid down Jo's shoulders, lingering on her hips before he hooked both thumbs into the waistband of her panties and began to tug on them. Jo easily stilled his advances as she worked at the buttons of his shirt, her nimble fingers making short work of the numerous buttons. Dean slid the shirt from his shoulders and chuckled as it dropped to the floor, and barely a breath later Jo began to toy with the zipper of his trousers.

A scattered trail of clothing followed in their wake, and the couple slowly sank to the floor, Jo's back pressed against the rug. The heat from the fire continued to bathe their skin as hands and lips began well rehearsed explorations.

"This new?" Dean inquired, pausing with an appreciative grin as his fingers stroked the fabric of Jo's bra. She bit her lip as his fingertip brushed over her nipple, and it puckered in response, before Dean pressed a kiss into the centre of her cleavage.

"Uh-huh," she nodded, running her fingers through his hair. Dean slid his hands beneath her back to unclasp the bra, his kisses increasing in their eagerness as he dispatched of the offending item. Jo hissed in pleasure, her back arching as Dean's questing hands finally stroked her bare skin.

The fire crackled and sparked beside them, bathing the room with a gentle glow, and their lips met over and over again.

**x-x-x**

Joe slapped Robbie's hand from his chest with a scowl, hardly registering his friend's words and simply viewing the contact as a challenge. No sooner had Robbie blinked than the figure on the opposite end of the bridge, shrouded in the roiling mist, vanished. Shaking his head a little, Robbie reached for a beer and struggled to push his unease from the back of his mind. The loud chatter of the group had hushed a little now, their spirits perhaps somewhat dampened by the growing chill in the night air, and the fact that their alcohol supply was dwindling.

"You hear that?" Nick demanded with a frown, trying his best to focus his considerably dulled senses on the approaching and alien sound.

"I don't hear nothin'," Joe shook his head, leaning back against the railings and enjoying a drag of the cigarette in his hand.

"I hear it," a disembodied voice relayed from somewhere deep under the bridge's cover where a few of the more subdued partiers now lay, half passed out on the ground.

"You don't hear shit, Peter," Joe guffawed; smirking as the boy hiccupped and then promptly sank back into unconsciousness.

"I think we should go," Nick stated, swallowing hard as his eyes scoured the horizon in search of the source of the peculiar clomping sound that seemed to be drawing ever closer. He dropped the remnants of his cigarette at his feet, and proceeded to stub it out with the toe of his sneaker. When he glanced back up again, only Robbie appeared to be nodding in agreement to his suggestion. The rest of the group, fronted as usual by Joe, simply glared at Nick with calculating grins spread across their faces.

"You scared, Rowman?" Joe barked, exchanging sniggers with the boy to his left, who jerked his head like an obedient dog as he clamoured for approval.

"Screw you, Maconi," Nick bit back, almost snarling at Joe through bared teeth as he took a threatening step forwards.

Joe's tongue darted out across his lips before he growled, "Want me to give you somethin' to be scared of?"

**x-x-x**

With every last item of clothing shed, Dean and Jo regarded each other, the tips of their noses touching and their chests heaving with anticipatory gasps. Dean raked his fingers through Jo's hair, sweeping the soft honey-blonde waves away from her face, and allowing the fire light to cast an orange hue over her naked body.

"You're so beautiful, you know," Dean murmured, feeling his gut clench as the desire that clawed at him grew impossible to ignore. He manoeuvred his body between Jo's legs so that her knees parted without disrupting the kiss he had instigated, and poised himself carefully above her, listening in anticipation for a responding groan. Jo tossed her head backwards and her hands found the small of Dean's back in order to guide his body down on top of her own. Dean moved at an agonisingly slow pace, the grin he wore taunting, and Jo wriggled beneath him in demonstration of impatience.

"Tease," she hissed, her tone accusing but betraying her appreciation of how well Dean could read her desire.

He silenced her effectively with a kiss before brushing his hand up the inside of her thigh and bending her knee, succeeding in extracting from her a whimper of approval. One finger began to rub gently but insistently against her in soft but rapid circles that caused Jo's eyelids to flutter closed, and her breath to escape her in a whoosh.

After a few moments, Dean finally gave into Jo's demands and he lowered his body against hers, their hips locking together comfortably. He groaned as he felt his stomach muscles clench; a direct result of the warmth and delicious tightness of Jo's body.

Jo slowly mapped the muscles across his back with her palm as Dean moved against her. Her hips arched up and she succeeded in drawing a low, guttural moan from Dean's chest that had her instantly repeating the gesture.

A breathy moan left her lips, and Dean smiled into her neck as he gasped for breath, searching out her hand and interlocking their fingers.

**x-x-x**

"Dude, I am out of here," Robbie stated, picking up his jacket from the ground before gesturing behind him to the road that led to town.

"Whatever," Joe shrugged, seizing an empty can and tossing it at the fleeing boy's head. The beer can missed it's desired target and landed with a hollow clatter on the ground; all eyes suddenly befell it as it began to bounce and jitter violently across the ground.

"What the hell..." Nick breathed, his eyed widening as he felt the wooden planks shaking beneath his feet.

The sound of thundering hooves drew nearer and nearer, before the eerie whinnying of an as yet unseen horse demanded their attentions.

"Hey, what are you..." Joe began, the words dying on his lips as the shrouded figure on horseback suddenly careered towards the group at lightning speed, and all but Robbie and Nick scattered in various directions to save themselves.

**x-x-x**

Their kisses intensified with the grinding of their hips, and Dean began to feel his own heart rate climb. He threaded his fingers through Jo's hair and, when their lips eventually parted, he brushed them repeatedly against her earlobe, flicking his tongue across the shell of her ear.

Jo bucked her hips in response, aroused by the feel of the tip of Dean's tongue beginning to explore her neck, then shoulder, before finally trailing a path down to her left breast. His lips played across her skin and his tongue darted out to lap at her nipple before his mouth enclosed around it. Jo closed her eyes, digging her fingernails into the curves of Dean's rear in reward as he continued to devour her body.

**x-x-x**

Joe flung himself to the ground, rolling out of the way of the horse's hooves as it careered towards him on the narrow bridge. The wooden planks trembled alarmingly, and for a moment Joe entertained the fear that the bridge may give out beneath them. He quickly dismissed the worry as obsolete however, as the horse finally drew level to Nick, and he realised that it's rider was completely minus a head. The stallion itself towered head and shoulders above the boy, and was coloured such a deep jet black that it was almost invisible against the darkness, save for the it's strangely glowing amber eyes, and the thick pink tongue that poked out of it's mouth as it chomped at the bit.

Nick stood staring up in fear at the horseman, and the stead reared up on its hind legs as if both sensing and enjoying the boy's panic.

"Oh my God!" Nick gasped, his eyes widening as the horseman drew back one beefy arm and the silver edge of a blade flashed in the heard the clamor of feet behind him as his friends beat a hasty retreat, some running toward the opposite end of the bridge and disappearing into the woods, whilst telltale splashes told him that at least one had jumped from the bridge into the river below.

"Guys? Guys?" he whispered fearfully. He started suddenly as he began to creep backwards and the action seemed to provoke the horse into snorting, and hoofing the ground around as instinct overpowered logic, Nick began to run in blind terror for the other side of the bridge.

The sound of heavy hooves breaking out into a gallop caused his eyes to widen in terror, and his legs burned with the exertion as he attempted to reach safety. An icy chill cut through the night air and, as Nick yelled out to his friends, his breath drifted from his lips in a visible puff of white smoke.

"It's the horseman! It's the horseman!" Joe screamed, unafraid of stating the obvious as he reached the safety of a copse of trees and ducked behind the trunk of a towering oak. He swallowed down the scream that threatened to tear from his chest, and instead he watched in silent horror as the horseman gained on his friend.

Joe flinched when the sound of a sword slicing through the air reached his ears, accompanied seconds later by the sickening noise of a blade cleaving flesh. Joe squeezed his eyes closed; seconds later, Nick's severed head landed inches from his feet.

**x-x-x**

As a cry of pleasure burst from Jo's lips, Dean grunted with the effort of thrusting himself further into the warm recesses of her body. Her fingers pressed into his thighs, urging him into his new rhythm, which was rapidly bringing her closer to the brink of ecstasy.

Their eyes locked, and Dean was careful to hold Jo's gaze as he made one final jarring movement that tipped her over the edge; he felt the walls of her muscles tighten around him, and begin to throb in a telltale manner. Moisture dripped down the inside of her thighs and brought a carnal smile to Dean's lips as his hand drifted down her stomach and he began to rub once more at her sensitive flesh. Jo pressed herself closer to him, gasping, and Dean could literally feel the pounding of her heart beneath her breast. She shuffled a little across the rug, repositioning herself so that the now inviting angle of her hips would encourage Dean's own satisfaction. Ever obliging and pleased that Jo's appetite had been sated first, Dean thrust deeper, taking advantage of the extra moisture that now drenched them both.

A single bead of sweat trickled down Dean's forehead, and it was as Jo reached up to wipe it away with the tip of her index finger, that Dean felt a familiar, welcome warmth begin to spread from the base of his crotch to the centre of his stomach. A long groan tumbled from his lips, and Dean collapsed against Jo's body, his muscles twitching with every new release.

Allowing his head to fall against her chest, Dean closed his eyes and waited for his breathing to even out. Jo ran her fingers through his hair, sighing as a pleasant and wholly satisfying numbness settled over her body. Dean pressed a kiss in the valley between her breasts before leaning up over her and seeking out her lips. The second their lips connected, Dean's entire body shuddered one final time, before his satisfied smirk blossomed.

Jo groaned in protest as she felt Dean slowly leave her body, and he placated her with another eager yet tender kiss."We should do this more often," Dean stated, brushing the tip of his nose against hers as he rested his weight on his elbows and gazed down at her.

Jo laughed and cocked her head in mock bemusement, "I thought we did this pretty often."

Dean smirked in smug agreement, but then shook his head as he explained, "No, I mean this whole 'weekend away' thing. We definitely need to do _this_ more."

The laughter that escaped her instantly brought a smile to Dean's face, and he cupped her cheek in his palm as he scrutinised her - the recent events in Carthage and Meg's taunting lies all too fresh in his mind.

"What?" Jo asked, sensing the sudden switch in mood as Dean's eyes bore into hers with startling intensity.

"Nothing," he shrugged, brushing his thumb over her cheek as he swept his gaze over her face and was hit once again with the realisation of just how very deeply he loved her.

Dean smiled to allay her curiosity before kissing her softly, in a bid to forget all about the forces of darkness, the war in heaven, or the cruel lies of a demon.

* * *

><p><strong>(Didn't expect that from us, did ya?)<strong>


	17. Chapter 17

_**Authors' Note – A huge thank you goes out to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, for which we had the most reviews so far.**_

_**Don't forget to check out our blog, The New Roadhouse (full of Dean/Jo goodness), and also our new fic 'House of Spirits', which was a fic request by the lovely CasRyan. **_

_**Cue more mild smut...**_

_**Episode Six – Part Two**_

'_**Heads Will Roll'**_

**x-x-x**

Gasping frantically for breath, Dean closed his eyes as he felt Jo's head fall against his abdomen, and tendrils of her blonde hair tickled his navel. He smoothed his hand across the crown of Jo's head and struggled to even out his breathing. She leaned up on her elbows and clambered up Dean's body, seeking out his lips. Their searing kiss elicited a breathless moan of pleasure against Dean's mouth, and his muscles clenched one last time as he noted the slick, moist feel of Jo's lips.

He reached up toward her cheek, brushing her hair back to regard her closely as the couple exchanged smiles.  
>"Good morning," Jo grinned, giggling as Dean suddenly rolled her beneath him and nodded in agreement at what he considered to be a gross understatement.<p>

"One of the best," Dean confirmed, catching Jo's self-satisfied smirk and chuckling. Dean had still been snoring when he had been awoken by the strange but not unwelcome sensation of hot breath caressing his most sensitive region. Allowing his eyelids to flicker open, Dean had discovered Jo peeking up at him from beneath the covers, a thoroughly impish grin spread across her features as she lowered her mouth to his body. All coherent thoughts had soon after fled Dean's mind as he lay in the king size bed with his fingers clutching at the tangled sheet beneath his body, whilst he made effort after valiant effort to hold on even one second longer.

"So, what are our plans for today?" Jo asked as Dean rolled back onto his side and pulled her into his arms. She ran the tip of one finger down the centre of his sweat slickened chest and grinned as his muscles grew taught beneath her touch.

"You mean we gotta have plans aside from holing up in here for the weekend?" demanded Dean, his grin and the gleam in his eyes indicating that he was only half joking.

"Not necessarily," Jo grinned, tugging playfully at the covers. Dean pulled them back, launching a mock fight, and swept his gaze over her in a tellingly lascivious manner.  
>"That's settled then," Dean declared, leaning up over Jo and kissing her lips before settling his attention on the warm skin of her neck.<br>Jo laughed merrily, her breath catching as Dean's hand ghosted down her hip and slid between her thighs.

"I'll make waffles," he offered, his lips trailing down the valley of her breasts and heading lower and lower down her abdomen, "breakfast in bed..."

He punctuated his promise by swirling his tongue around her navel whilst his hand simultaneously slid up toward her chest.  
>"Sounds good," Jo breathed, hissing as Dean bit down gently against the inside of her thigh and both hands slid behind her knees in order to usher her legs further apart.<br>"But... " he smirked, glancing up at her to gauge her reaction as he teased her with his fingertips, "first thing's first, sweetheart."  
>Jo's hips arched up in response the second his mouth met her sensitive flesh, and she decided there and then that making any further plans was entirely unnecessary.<p>

Jo groaned as, from the bedside table, Dean's cell phone began to emit a rousing and rather distracting chorus of 'Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution'.

"Leave it..." she hissed her order, her fingers winding into Dean's hair, and her hips bucking as he continued to run the tip of his tongue over her. Dean nodded, signifying that he had no intention of moving, and allowed the cell to continue to vibrate against the glass surface of the nightstand. Jo let out a gasp of pleasure, and the cell ceased ringing, only to start up again less than five seconds later.

Jo shot the offending item an irritated look, attempting to keep her mind focused on Dean's ministrations, and the intermittent sucking that drove her entire body wild. She cursed out loud as the cell both ceased ringing and began to ring once again in the space of ten seconds, and it became increasingly clear that the caller was not about to give up.

"Answer the damned phone..." Jo snapped, her eyes narrowing as she considered the various ways in which she would like to inflict suffering on whoever was disturbing them. Dean raised his head to glance at her from between her thighs, his expression evidently disappointed.

"You sure?" he inquired, his lips sliding into an easy pout. Jo sighed and flopped back against the pillows.

"It's too distracting..." she grumbled, drawing her knees into her chest and rolling onto her side so as to allow Dean to reach the table.

Groaning, Dean rolled over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand, stabbing at the call key with pronounced anger.  
>"Yeah?" he barked, frowning and shaking his head at Jo as he beckoned her closer and began to run his free hand up and down her hip.<br>"Hey Mr. Maconi," Dean mustered his best 'polite' voice, finding himself unwilling to become too involved in the conversation or the required pleasantries as he remained distracted by the naked woman in his arms.  
>"Dean..." Jo warned, trying her best to frown as Dean leant up over her, smirking whilst he allowed his hand to wander over the soft planes of her body.<br>"Uh-huh..." Dean murmured, frowning as he listened to the restaurant owner who appeared to be babbling.  
>"What?" Jo whispered, watching Dean's face intently as he appeared to deliberate something before replying.<br>"We'll be there in an hour," he said, shooting Jo an apologetic glance as he realised that their vacation was about to come to an abrupt end.  
>Tossing his phone onto the floor, Dean intercepted Jo's questioning expression and held up his finger to silence her.<br>"Ten minutes, Jo... give me ten minutes," he pleaded, not prepared for their morning to end on such an unsatisfactory note. Jo grimaced but remained obediently silent.

"Then I'll explain everything. Just... come here," Dean urged softly, laying his head on the pillow beside hers and cupping her cheek in his hand as he leant in to press his lips to hers, "ten minutes..."

"Just ten, huh?" Jo inquired, her voice husky, "that's pretty confident, Dean-o."

"Sweetheart, I'll only need the first three," he quipped, his smile dazzling as he crawled back towards the bottom of the bed.

**x-x-x**

Jo lowered her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose and peered over the rims towards the restaurant that, only the previous evening, had played host to their first proper date in almost three months. Heaving a sigh, Jo flicked the release button on her seat belt, and swung open the door of the Impala in order to join Dean, who was already leaning against the car engaged in conversation with Tony Maconi.

"And your son is absolutely sure about what he saw?" Dean demanded, his usual courteous manner when dealing with a client not present.

"He saw it!" the man stated emphatically, gesturing with his arms to illustrate his point. "He saw it with his own two eyes... the horseman... it was the horseman!"  
>"Mr. Maconi, your son seemed pretty out of it, last night," Jo pointed out, anger descending upon her as she realised that their much anticipated vacation had just gone to hell.<br>"Then how do you explain Nicky?" Mr. Maconi cried, "that poor kid... what his parents must be going through... oh... I can't even think about it."

The restaurateur formed the sign of the cross over his chest, muttering a hurried prayer before eyeing both hunters with an expectant expression.  
>"Look, we're not saying a guy didn't lose his head last night," Dean began, also finding himself a little short tempered.<br>"We're just questioning who did it," Jo finished, as both hunters folded their arms across their chests and leant back against the Impala in unison.  
>"You go... you go to the woods and you get rid of it, before somebody else dies!" Mr. Maconi pleaded, again muttering something unintelligible.<br>"We'll go take a look up at the old bridge," Dean offered, jamming his hands in his pockets as he stood straighter, "if we find anything, we'll let you know."

"Thank you," the man yelped, grasping Dean's hand in his own and smiling, "thank you... you come back anytime, anytime, you hear?"

As Jo and Dean nodded, their smiles tight and forced, Mr. Maconi retreated towards the restaurant, all the while muttering to himself in a foreign language that neither hunter could translate.

Jo turned to Dean immediately, her arms folded across her chest and her brows furrowed, "Are we really doing this, Dean? This is our vacation, after all."

Dean let out a hearty sigh and nodded, evidently reluctant and crestfallen. "I guess so."

"Isn't there anyone else in the area who could take the case... if this even is one?" Jo demanded, rubbing at her forehead with her palm as she anticipated the impending 'hunt' with both annoyance and trepidation. "It's not like we're going to get another chance like this anytime soon, what with the roadhouse and all the work Bobby's been turning up for us."

"I know," Dean replied sadly, reaching across and seizing Jo's hand, which he squeezed within his own. "I'm sorry, but what else can we do? There aren't any other hunters around, and we can't deny that kid died bloody last night. We should at least check it out, Jo, and if it turns out to be nothing we can deal with, then we leave it to the sheriff and we enjoy the rest of our weekend."

"Fine," Jo conceded, an edge of defeat creeping into her tone as she contemplated their total unfamiliarity with the concept of 'good luck', "but of course it's gonna be something, it's us."  
>Dean smiled wearily, planting his hands on Jo's hips as he drew her closer and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, "I'm sorry, honey."<br>"It's not your fault, Dean," Jo replied, leaning up against him as she wrapped her arms around his neck, "life may never be simple for us, and I guess I'm okay with that... even if it does mean we never get to take a regular vacation... we've got each other. That's all that matters."  
>"Even if it means a dusk 'til dawn stakeout in the local cemetery?" Dean queried, grinning as she let her head fall against his chest and groaned in abject displeasure at the evening ahead of them.<br>Jo returned Dean's smile as she felt his fingers tangle in her hair, and Dean pressed a kiss to the top of her head. A chuckle rumbled through his chest.  
>"You're really pushing your luck now, Winchester," she retorted, allowing a contented sigh to escape her lips as Dean held her tight and she inhaled the scent of his cologne. She was however saddened at the thought that their time together would once again be spent hunting some other-worldy force, instead of making dinner reservations and sipping beer by the fireside as they had intended.<br>"So, where to now?" Dean asked, brushing a final, parting kiss against Jo's lips before she stepped from his embrace and began to walk around to the passenger side of the Impala.  
>"Library, I guess? We should probably crack a couple of books, see if there's any truth to the whole horseman thing," Jo suggested, opening the door and pausing to sweep her gaze around the sleepy, tree lined main street, "but next time, Dean-o, I pick the vacation spot."<p>

**x-x-x**

Jo's head lolled back against a ruined gravestone behind her, and she curled her knees into her chest as she stared across at her boyfriend, who was seated opposite her with a shotgun loaded with rocksalt rounds cradled in his arms.

"I spy with my little eye..." Dean began, his tone evidently bored, "something beginning with 'g'."

Jo let out a groan of frustration, tipping her head forwards in order to glare at Dean through narrowed eyes.

"Gravestones..." she guessed, in a voice that indicated that she was indifferent to whether or not her answer was correct.

"Nope," Dean replied, popping the 'p' and smirking triumphantly.

"Graveyard," Jo answered without missing a beat, almost consenting to smile at Dean's suddenly crestfallen expression.

"How did you know?" he demanded, brow furrowed and arms folded across his chest in a demonstration of his annoyance.

"Dean, we're in a cemetery," Jo drawled, staring at Dean incredulously, "chances are, anything you spy beginning with 'g' is going to be a word preset by 'grave'."

"Yeah, well," Dean grumbled, genuinely affronted, "it's a dumb game anyway."

"Hey, it passes the time," Jo shrugged, her gaze flitting toward the purported grave of the horseman as she let out a second, deeper sigh.  
>"Sweetheart, I can think of a hundred and one better ways for us to pass the time..." he quipped, smirking as he added sourly, "and not one of them involves sitting ass deep in mud in a cemetery at two am, waiting for a headless dude on a horse to show."<br>Jo crossed her arms and shot him a vaguely accusing glare, "Do I need to remind you whose idea it was to come to Sleepy Hollow?"  
>"No," Dean spat irritably, letting the shot gun rest across his thighs as he rubbed his hand across his face and leant his head back against the cold stone behind him.<br>Jo relented and shot him an apologetic smile, shuffling across the small distance between them.

Dean curled one arm around Jo's shoulder and pulled her into his side, setting his gun on the grass as he cupped her cheek in one hand and inclined her face towards him. Dean leaned forwards and brushed his lips against Jo's, poking the tip of his tongue into her mouth and flicking it against hers teasingly before drawing away.

"This is torture," Jo protested, her voice adopting a whiny tone that reminded Dean greatly of their first few meetings, when Jo had seemed to him nothing more than a naive and inexperienced little girl with some hefty misconceptions about hunting. Dean had to admit that his initial perception of Jo had been influenced greatly by his own sour mood, and overwhelming grief at the loss of his father. A small smile crept across his features as he contemplated the way he and Jo had butted heads and, how despite this fact, they had clearly still been attracted to each other.

"We'll give it until dawn and then head back to the cabin," Dean suggested, squeezing Jo's shoulder and shooting her a smile, which she returned after a beat.

"Ok, but if this thing doesn't show tonight, then we're taking back the rest of our weekend," she said, resting her head against Dean's shoulder and focusing her attention back upon the gravesite, which remained undisturbed. Jo strongly suspected that the entire grave was nothing more than an elaborate hoax constructed to draw in tourists, but had refrained from commenting as much since Dean was in a foul mood about the entire fiasco.

"So are we sure this is where he's meant to show?" Jo checked, reaching up and pressing her palm to Dean's cheek.  
>"Nope," Dean replied, finding his anger at the unfairness of their situation stifled somewhat by her touch, "but it's the best we got. And since some ass wipe decided to fill the grave in with a few tons of cement, burning the damn bones ain't exactly an option."<br>"If there's even bones in there," Jo said derisively, glancing up at him as his lips fluttered against the centre of her palm.  
>"Yup," Dean agreed, lifting his wrist in order to squint at the watch on his arm, "so, I figure we've got another three hours or so of mind numbing boredom, before we head back to the cabin... take a shower..."<p>

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Jo let out a laugh, arching a blonde eyebrow in response.  
>"Dean," she whispered, trailing her fingertips across the line of stubble that was beginning to form on his jaw, "you know what I really want to do?"<br>Dean shook his head, eagerly anticipating her suggestion as he watched her bite down on her bottom lip.  
>Leaning in closer, Jo allowed her fingertips to drift across the shell of his ear before she stated breathlessly, "Sleep!"<p>

This time, it was Dean's turn to sigh. He rested his cheek against the crown of Jo's head as she settled herself in his arms, and the hunters prepared for the next three hours to pass by- cold, hungry, tired, and awaiting the appearance of a legend.

**x-x-x**

Lowering his eyes to the ground and huddling further into his lightweight jacket, Lance Healy quickened his pace and sucked in a nervous breath. For the last three blocks, the teen was certain that he was being followed by some unseen presence. However, every time he whirled around, he was greeted by nothing more than the darkness of the poorly lit streets of his hometown, and the occasional distant barking of a dog left out in a yard.

Lance was beginning to grow more and more paranoid as the minutes ticked by, and it hardly helped that he was still three blocks away from home. Despite having begged his dad to drive by and pick him up from Joe's house, his father had refused, claiming that he was not up for indulging Lance's laziness when he had a pile of tax receipts a mile high to work through. However, after having one of his closest friends murdered in cold blood only the previous evening, Lance was decidedly and perhaps understandably jumpy about going anywhere after dark, and would have accepted Mrs. Maconi's invitation to spend the night at their house had he not already promised his father that he would help him out at the store at the crack of dawn the next morning.

An icy breeze suddenly swept around him, and Lance pulled the zipper of his jacket higher against his throat, ducking his neck deeper into the fabric. He peered down at the sidewalk beneath his feet, frowning as the leaves began to lift and swirl in the air, and a strange growl drifted upon the breeze.

Quickening his pace, Lance jammed his hands into his pockets and stalked along the street, using each street lamp as a marker that brought him closer to the safety of home.  
>The shrill ring of his cell phone startled him and, as he dug in his pocket, Lance cast a glance at the display screen and rolled his eyes as the word 'Mom' flashed repeatedly in bright green lettering.<p>

Pressing his thumb down against the 'End Call' button, Lance dropped the phone back into his pocket. He paused as a more unfamiliar sound met his ears. From somewhere in the distance, a rhythmic pounding ebbed closer and closer, and it took only a second longer for Lance to distinguish the noise as the rapidly approaching hooves of a horse.

With his heart hammering in his ears, Lance broke out into a run; his feet slapped against the ground as he craned his neck furtively over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his pursuer. The figure on the back of the horse rose up out of the saddle, and whipped the sword he clutched high in the air in a wicked arc, doubtlessly capable of cleaving a man in two. Lance screamed, unashamed of the high pitched and pitiful noise that escaped his lips. Pumping his legs harder, Lance ran for his life, spurred on by the whinnying of a horse that sounded a little too close for comfort.

The horseman's cape billowed behind him, and the horse's breath filtered from it's wide nostrils in two enormous puffs of white cloud. Lance sobbed, and his breath caught in his throat as he spied the relative safety of a corner diner ahead. He forced his aching legs to continue to work and not to buckle as they had threatened upon sight of the horseman. However, just as Lance reached the final streetlamp before the entrance of the diner, he stumbled, and the horse gained the extra ground required to bring the rider level with the boy. One burly, leather and glove encased arm swung back, and Lance's cry for help died in his throat as his head was severed from his body. Lance's corpse tumbled to the floor, and his decapitated head bounced before rolling away beneath a parked car, the alarm of which promptly began to shriek.

The horseman slid his blade back into the sheath that hung from his hip, and dug both heels simultaneously into the flanks of the ebony horse. With a whine and a shriek, the horse reared up onto it's powerful hind legs, broke into a canter, and promptly disappeared along with it's rider.

**x-x-x**

"Well, that was a pretty uneventful stakeout," Jo groused, pressing her hand to her mouth as she yawned and her head dropped back against the seat, "although I can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Kind of feels like a giant waste of time, you know?

Drumming his hands on the steering wheel, Dean nodded in agreement, reaching out and patting her other hand where it rested low on his thigh.  
>"Well, we'll tell Mr. Maconi we checked it out, then I say we grab a shower, a few hours sleep and then sweetheart, it's just you and me, and we ain't leaving that damn cabin unless it's on fire!"<br>"Don't tempt fate," Jo smiled sleepily, waiting until they came to a stop at an intersection to lean closer and press a kiss to Dean's cheek. She ran her fingertips over the dark stubble on his jaw and nestled closer, as Dean flashed her an affectionate smile.

Turning the Impala down a side street, Dean glanced out at the tree lined sidewalk, which seemed to be the very epitome of suburbia. Wrinkling her nose in obvious distaste at the almost identical houses and SUV's, Jo closed her eyes and happily envisioned a hot shower, clean clothes and a soft mattress beneath her body.

"What the..." Dean began, slowing the car down as Jo's eyes flew open. A line of luminous police tape was wrapped around the streetlamps in front of a modest diner, and a 'Crime Scene - Road Closed' sign blocked the way ahead for traffic and pedestrians alike.

"You don't think..." Jo began, frowning at Dean as he swung the car around only to begin reversing into a nearby space between two police cars.

"You got your Fed. Badge?" he inquired, shooting Jo a glance. Cocking an eyebrow, she rummaged in her pocket and retrieved the required item, to which Dean gave a curt nod before pushing open the door. Jo followed at his side, her badge clutched in readiness in one hand, as the hunters approached a uniformed officer who seemed to be hanging back somewhat from the crime scene, with a handkerchief pressed to his mouth.

"Officer," Dean barked in greeting, resisting the urge to smirk as the young man visibly started and whirled around.

"I'm sorry sir," he croaked out, looking pale and sick to his stomach, "but this is a crime scene, and..."

"FBI, this is Agent Hayes and I'm Agent Addison," said Dean, not breaking his stride as he continued on towards the out of bounds area. The officer trotted after them, clearly uncertain as to how proceedings should go; something that Dean realised could be used to their advantage.

"What do we got in the way of evidence?" demanded Dean, deciding that a fast and direct approach would doubtlessly yield the best outcome with the obviously inexperienced man.

"Nothing, we got nothing... sir," the officer shrugged, his eyes visibly tearing as he tried to prevent revisiting his breakfast.

"Ma'am," he nodded at Jo, who flashed him a smile before taking in the crime scene around them with interest.  
>"Can we take a look at the body?" she enquired, instantly regretting her question, as she realised that without doubt they would be greeted with another headless corpse. Jo took a deep breath and nodded over toward the shrouded gurney, where she surmised the unlucky victim was now resting.<br>"This is usually Sammy's gig," Dean muttered under his breath, grimacing as the officer gestured for them to follow.  
>"It's the weirdest thing," the officer said almost in awe, unzipping the body bag and turning his head as he revealed the stump of a young man's neck, "no blood, nothing... looks like it uh... well, it looks like his head was sliced clean off."<p>

Dean and Jo exchanged glances, before the latter snapped a discrete photograph of the corpse on her cell phone as Dean led the officer away by the arm, all the while firing questions at him. Jo managed to gain several more photographs from various angles before the appearance of an EMT forced her to drop the cell, unseen, back into her pocket. She rejoined Dean just in time to catch the tail end of his questions, most of which seemed to have the officer squirming where he stood.

"What about enemies?" Dean demanded, his tone less than pleasant. "You got a decent suspect list? Eye-witnesses? Anything?"

"We're making an appeal..." the officer squeaked defensively, "on the local radio and TV stations. But until someone comes forward to say they know something, we don't have a lot to go on. No trace of a murder weapon, or even a set of footprints belonging to the guy."

"Fine," Dean snarled, glancing at the badge the cop wore before adding, "thanks Officer Nicholson, you've been real helpful."

The sarcasm lacing Dean's voice was blatant, and the officer shot him a poisonous glare before scurrying off back towards a waiting cop car.

"Let's get out of here before the real feds show up," Dean suggested, careful to maintain a decent distance between their bodies as they beat a hasty retreat to the Impala.

"Horseman?" Jo sighed, already resigned to the fact that they were now most definitely hunting the infamous supernatural being.  
>"Looks like," Dean confirmed, closing the car door and gunning the engine, "but we sat out all damn night in that cemetery..."<p>

He sighed, wondering just which of the many legends in relation to the horseman might actually prove accurate.  
>"Well, one story says he appears out of a tree, another has him appearing and disappearing on the bridge..." Jo listed, grimacing as she stared down at the photograph on her cell phone and saw the unmistakable mascot of the local high school football team on the deceased's jacket, "I don't know, maybe we should split up tonight, take..."<br>"No way," Dean shook his head, pointedly glancing at her as he finished, "not gonna happen."  
>Jo rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest as she leant back in the passenger seat and shot him a thoroughly unimpressed glare.<br>"Come on Jo, don't ride my ass about this," Dean began, blinking as Jo suddenly sat up straighter in her seat and turned to stare out of the window.  
>"Isn't that the kid from the restaurant? The waitress' friend?" she arched an eyebrow, waiting for Dean to follow her gaze.<p>

Dean narrowed his eyes as he turned to peer out of the side window, his gaze falling upon the familiar face of the young boy, who was watching the officers that milled around with a grimly determined expression. Almost as if sensing eyes upon him, the boy turned on his heel, and began to stride away, a backpack slung over one shoulder and his head tucked down. His blonde hair fell in a shaggy curtain in front of his features, and he loped along with the air of someone uncomfortable with their own height and gainliness.

"I think it was," Dean observed, finally pulling out of the parking space and beginning to head back towards the road that would lead them to the cabin. "What was his name? Jimmy... Josh..."

"Jake," Jo supplied, craning her neck in an attempt to follow the kid, who had disappeared from sight into an alleyway. Jo turned around, folding her arms across her chest, and a contemplative expression settled upon her features.

"Coincidence or lead?" she queried finally, stifling a yawn behind the back of her hand and grimacing in the overhead mirror at the dark bags beneath her eyes.

"You think he's summoned this thing to get even for his girlfriend?" Dean checked, watching as Jo shook her head.  
>"Not his girlfriend," she stated confidently, smiling at Dean's confused expression, "I'm guessing that's a chronic case of unrequited love."<br>Dean winced, cocking his head as he considered Jo's statement, which, given the lack of intimacy on Lilly's behalf, was most probably accurate.  
>"Poor kid," Dean replied, as Jo nodded and leant her head on his shoulder.<br>"Yup." She yawned, suddenly growing still as another possibility struck her, "Unless it's Lilly who's behind it."

"Nah," Dean shook his head, grateful to see the cabin come into view as he turned the Impala up the winding, dirt track, "she didn't seem the type."  
>"I don't know, Dean, maybe she just snapped," Jo suggested, running her hand over her forehead. At his disbelieving expression, Jo grinned and patted his thigh, "<em>Hell hath no fury<em>, remember?"  
>"Yeah? Tell me about it," Dean quipped with a lopsided smirk. Jo shook her head, choosing to ignore her boyfriend for the moment, and instead unclipped her seatbelt. Together, they trudged back towards the cabin, both firmly in the hunting mindset, and resolute that their first vacation together had been cut short.<p>

**x-x-x**

Lilly sighed as she swept the damp cloth over the last of the tables, before straightening up and tossing the rag back into the cleaning caddy at her side. For the second evening in a row, Lilly had been left to close up Maconi's Bar and Grill alone, and the restaurant was now practically gleaming as a result of her efforts. Lilly was nothing if not thorough, a fact which she suspected often led to her being handed more than her fair share of duties both at school, and at work. However, Lilly welcomed the overtime to add to her college fund, and so avoided making any direct complaints about the length of her hours, and the way that she seemed to be the only staff member to ever pull her weight.

Lilly turned off her ipod and slipped the headphones from her ears, allowing them to dangle down the front her body as she set about replacing the caddy into the cleaning closet, and locking up for the evening.

A sudden, shrill, scraping noise emanating from the direction of the already secured kitchen drew Lilly's attention immediately. Her head whipped around and Lilly's eyes grew wide as the sound repeated, seeming to also grow louder and closer in proximity.

"Hello?" Lilly called out, her voice trembling horribly. She winced as soon as the questioning greeting had spilled from her lips, mentally chiding herself for not having headed for the safety of the parking lot instead. Two of her classmates had already lost their lives in as many nights and Lilly knew that hanging around town after dark was no longer considered safe. Whilst Lilly was aware that most parents in town were locking their kids away at dusk until the sheriff's office declared the perpetrator caught, Lilly's alcoholic father appeared to have no such reservations.

Hearing a loud clatter emanating from the rear of the building, Lilly took a hesitant step forwards, her heart hammering in her chest as she called out once again.

"Hello?" Lilly trembled visibly from head to foot, but she forced herself to ignore the fear that was rapidly overcoming her, and willed her feet to move another step.  
>"Tony? Luke?" she called, attempting to calm herself by sucking in one deep breath after another.<p>

"Shit!"  
>Lilly blinked, frowning as she recognised the voice of the intruder. She rounded the corner into the main kitchen area, and let out a strangled cry as she came face to face with the owner's son.<br>"Joe, you scared me," she gasped, her hand flying to her chest.  
>Joe awarded her a derogatory glance and nodded. "Yeah, well you should be, haven't you heard? There's a psycho killer in town. Hey, you walking home alone tonight, Lil?" he teased, smirking at the shudder his off-handed comment provoked.<br>"What are you doing?" she asked uncertainly, her hand gripping the edge of the counter top as she watched him un-sheath two long chef's knives from their stand and examine the blades under the light.

"Just borrowing a few things," Joe replied, pausing in order to slide the larger of the knives into the loop of his belt. Lilly swallowed hard, noting the gesture, and Joe almost growled as he returned his attention to her.

"Maybe you shouldn't..." she began hesitantly. Joe spun around, closing the short distance between them in two strides, and pressing his nose almost against Lilly's as he glared down at her.

"Maybe you shouldn't tell me what to do," he snarled, enjoying the terrified look that streaked across Lilly's face as she blinked up at him. "This is my old man's place after all, and what's his is gonna be mine soon enough."

"Wh... what do you need that big old knife for anyway?" Lilly stammered, shrinking away from Joe as he continued to glower down at her, his jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed to cruel, hard slits.

"None of your damn business," he retorted, watching with satisfaction as Lilly scurried away from him and across the kitchen, where she flicked the light switch on in order to illuminate the room better. Joe blinked a little against the unexpected brightness but made no move to replace the knives.

"I don't think your Dad would be happy if I just let you walk out of here with those," Lilly said, folding her arms across her chest and injecting her tone with a forcefulness she knew she would never be able to carry through.

"Really?" Joe smirked, looking her up and down with an amused smirk twisting his lips into an altogether sinister expression, "And what are _you_ gonna do about it, Lil?"

"Well, I... I..." she stammered, leaning back as he stepped closer, his face held inches from hers.

Joe laughed, taking the knife in his hand and trailing the tip of the blade across the collar of her shirt, down the first few buttons, "Yeah. Just as I thought."

He shrugged, watching Lilly shudder as the knife hooked threateningly in the fabric of her blouse.

"I should... I should close up now," she swallowed hard, breathing an audible sigh of relief as Joe withdrew the knife and tossed it into a gym bag he produced from below the counter top.

"You do that," he mocked, zipping up the bag and hoisting it onto his shoulder, "I'm gonna have me a little horseman hunt!"

"Wait, you're going to what...?" Lilly demanded, not entirely believing her own ears as the words tumbled from Joe's lips. The boy sighed irritably, brushing past Lilly as he made his way towards the front of the restaurant and the main door. The beeping of a car horn tore Joe's gaze towards the window, and Lilly presumed that his ride was waiting somewhat impatiently for him out front.

"Me and a couple guys from the team are going after that son of a bitch that murdered Nick and Lance," Joe snarled, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he continued to stare at Lilly. She lowered her head, her eyes dropping to the floor, but she took a step forwards and forced herself to speak.

"That's not such a good idea, Joe," she warned, nibbling at her bottom lip as she awaited Joe's reaction to her caution. "I'm really sorry about your friends, but I don't think..."

"Yeah, what do you know?" he interjected, rolling his eyes and tossing his head back to let out a low guffaw of amusement. "You're just chicken shit. We're gonna make him pay for what he did- that's what friends do. Not that you'd know anything about that, huh? Poor little Lilly, no Mommy, no friends, no one who really cares..."

"That's enough!" Lilly yelled, her head whipping up and her eyes widening in surprise at her own outburst. She added seconds later, in a somewhat calmer tone, "You don't know anything about me."

"Whatever you say, Lil," he scoffed, stalking toward the door as he chuckled mercilessly.

"You go after the horseman, you'll die," she warned, her tone now smooth and infused with a strange confidence.

"Yeah?" Joe swung the door open as he turned to momentarily regard Lilly, "You sure about that?"

Lily shrugged, watching as he shot her a self-assured smile and then disappeared.

Folding her arms across her chest, the waitress watched the retreating figure intently from the window. Joe leaped into the back of a dark convertible without bothering to open the door, and dragged his bag over the seat behind him.

"Oh, I'm sure," she whispered, locking the door and pulling down the blind.

Turning off the lights once again, Lilly grabbed her jacket and swung her heavy school bag over her shoulder. As Lilly moved to the door, the journals and books stacked inside her still open backpack slid across each other, and the topmost of the pile dropped unnoticed to the ground.

In the dim light that shone in from the kitchen window, the front cover of the book was illuminated, and five silver gilded words stood out in the moonlight; _The Legend of Sleepy Hollow_.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Authors' Note – This fic is still a collab between WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon, who still own nothing.**_

_**Check out our latest oneshots if you have the time – 'House of Spirits', 'Hitched', 'Writer's Block', 'Reading Between the Lines', and our new multi-chap, 'Angels and Personal Demons'. **_

_**There is also a new update of Jukebox Tales on our blog, entitled 'Hey, Jude', and WelshWitch1011's solo oneshot, 'Aftershock', plus her new solo fic 'State Lines'. All are filled with smushy, sickly Dean/Jo goodness. **_

_**Be sure to review and we may send the Winchesters round!**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Episode 6 – Part 3<strong>_

'_**Heads Will Roll'**_

**x-x-x**

It seemed that there was some inherent stupidity in the teenage generation that made the notion of throwing a party in secluded woodland appear to be a good one- even with an apparently unstoppable serial killer on the loose.

Dean would never understand that particular carefree way of thinking, having been raised from a child to always be looking over his shoulder for the next demon attack, or malevolent force just itching to do him harm. However, as he and Jo milled around the group of high-school students, he could see that the potential danger they were in had more than likely never crossed their minds. Whilst he assumed that such ignorance must indeed be bliss, Dean could not imagine ever having been so clueless as to exactly what was waiting in the darkness.

A bonfire roared in the centre of the clearing, and seated around it was a throng of seniors, who were smoking and drinking cans of beer as they talked in loud voices. Insults were tossed back and forth, some half hearted and some tinged with actual malice, but for the most part, the kids seemed subdued and for that Dean was thankful; he had no intention of spending the duration of the hunt breaking up pissing contests between pimply, pubescent boys.

"They do know there's a guy on a horse beheading half the student body, right?" Jo queried, shaking her head in obvious disbelief at the display before them.  
>"Kids today, huh?" Dean quipped, squeezing her hand and chuckling as she appeared to nod in agreement.<p>

Jo stopped in her tracks and arched an eyebrow in blatant disdain as a group of boys wandered passed the couple, and one of the young men dropped behind to bestow a wink and his best 'come hither' smile in her direction.  
>"Yeah, yeah... keep walking, junior," Dean muttered, alarmed by the elevated testosterone levels that appeared to be disabling the male party goers.<p>

Hoardes of teenaged boys stood huddled in circles as they passed around bottles of liquor, hocked up phlegm, and engaged in burping contests. Some stumbled drunkenly across the clearing, whilst others had passed out on the ground, drooling and snoring. In short, they were sitting ducks for the horseman, and Dean knew that not many of the revellers would be capable of even attempting an escape should the need arise.

"Eww, I'm old enough to be their..." Jo narrowed her eyes, attempting the math in her head dubiously, "well, their babysitter, at least."  
>Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows, "Kind of reminds me of a couple of movies I've seen."<br>Jo laughed and rolled her eyes, shooting him a half-heartedly disparaging smile as his hand wandered from around her waist and he gave her rear a playful squeeze.  
>"I feel bad for Sam having to share rooms with you," she retorted. Dean winked, recognising her taunting for what it was, and rewarding her with a sharp slap on the backside. Jo arched a suggestive eyebrow before returning the gesture, although the blow she dealt to Dean's rear was delivered with a somewhat heavier hand.<p>

"Ow!" Dean yelped, his own hand rushing to his ass cheek as Jo flashed him a grin. He opened his mouth, poised to respond, when a sudden yelp from the other side of the forest swiftly drew their attentions. The two hunters had started out in the direction of the sound before they had even begun to figure out the reason behind it.

Dean's hand slid inside his jacket pocket, and his fingers closed around the cool shaft of the Colt in a self-reassuring gesture. After hours of painful research and an arduous telephone conversation with Bobby had both pointed to the legend of the horseman being exactly that, Dean and Jo had drawn a blank as to how to either kill, or suitably contain the creature. Finally, Dean's decision had been to make use of one of the remaining Colt bullets, in the hope that it would indeed prove to be successful upon the as-of-yet unidentified being. Whilst being the first hunters to stumble upon the headless horseman was undoubtedly an honour and a claim to fame, Dean could not help but think of it more as a giant pain in the ass, and an unwelcome disruption to their weekend.

"What's going on?" Jo demanded as they finally reached the copse of trees from behind which the shriek had emanated. She wasted no time in wading into the middle of two boys, who appeared to be circling each other in a predatory manner. Dean recognised Jake instantly, and noted the trickle of blood oozing from his bottom lip with interest.

"What's it to you?" snarled the other boy, a tall and well-built guy who Dean suspected of heavy steroid abuse. Jo simply shrugged yet did not move to reposition herself, instead planting both hands firmly on her hips and standing with her feet wide set.

"Just doing my civic duty," she quipped, shooting a brief glance at Jake to ascertain his well-being. Once satisfied, she returned her attention to the hulk of muscle, who had now come to a standstill in front of her. He loomed over Jo, evidently hoping to cow her into backing off; when that appeared unlikely, he cast his eyes down to the forest floor, grumbling under his breath to demonstrate his displeasure.

"Is this gonna be something?" pressed Jo, her tone no-nonsense and the narrowing of her eyes nothing short of threatening.

"No," the boy shook his head, wincing and ducking his head as Jo glowered at him and arched her eyebrow impatiently, "I mean, no ma'am."  
>Jo blinked at his choice of address but decided to dismiss him with a toss of her head, "Okay, so... get your ass out of here."<p>

Dean bit back a smirk and instead shot a supportive glare at the departing youth. Grumbling under his breath, the boy ran his hand through his hair and stomped off toward the bonfire to join his friends.

"I could have handled it," Jake groused, flinching as Jo glared at him.  
>"Yeah. I know... and you're welcome," she replied with a sarcastic smile. She watched as Jake climbed to his feet and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth were his bottom lip was swollen and split. Glancing at the smear of blood on his skin, Jake rubbed the back of his hand against his jeans and regarded the two hunters with evident unease.<br>"What do you want?" Jake demanded, suddenly lifting his chin as he glanced between the couple, "hey, weren't you at the restaurant last night?"

"Jake! Are you okay?" a familiar voice interrupted as Lilly began to elbow her way through a straggling crowd of teenage girls in an effort to reach her friend. Dean watched as the boy hurriedly raked one hand through his hair and swiped his arm across his mouth, staining his sleeve with the residual blood.

"Lil... hey..." the boy grunted, a blush immediately rising up on his cheeks as Lilly drew to a halt in front of him and cast a discerning eye over his injury.

"What was that about?" Lilly demanded, either choosing to ignore or simply failing to register the presence of the hunters. It appeared that she only had eyes for Jake for the moment.

"Just Riley being a douche," he explained somewhat vaguely, tousling his hair again and shooting a glance at Jo, as though seeking affirmation.

"Is he ever anything else?" Lilly replied with a sigh, her eyes narrowing behind the lenses of her glasses as she surveyed Jake intently. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Jake replied, the tips of his ears burning crimson as he felt the weight of Lilly's concern bearing down upon him. "What are you doing here, anyway? You hate this kind of thing."

Lilly shrugged, hefting her bag onto her shoulder as it dipped towards the ground. It was her turn to blush as she regarded Jake, gnawing nervously on her bottom lip.

"Joe and some of the other guys from school are out for payback," Lilly said, her voice dropping to a soft purr as she added, "I just wanted to make sure you weren't with them, or anything."

Jake blinked in surprise, a smile beginning to tug at the corners of his lips. However, he grimaced instead of smiled as the gesture sent a jolt of pain through his cheekbone.

"I mean, how would I ever pass lab without you?" Lilly murmured, forcing a chuckle that sounded dry and somewhat off.

Dean and Jo exchanged awkward glances, each instantly feeling for the young boy as his expression betrayed his hurt and embarrassment. There was perhaps nothing more painful than unrequited love; or at least Dean surmised this fact, having never himself been the victim of such one-sided affection. Whilst it was true that it had taken the jolt of a near death experience to force Dean to admit his feelings for Jo, they were feelings that she readily reciprocated, and so he could only surmise how Jake was feeling.

A long void in conversation held the four in an uncomfortable silence, before Lilly finally made her excuses to leave.

"I uh... I should probably go find Tasha," she stated, scuffing her foot along the ground as she avoided Jake's gaze, feeling instantly guilty due to her barb. Whilst she had rarely considered Jake from a romantic perspective, she loved him dearly as a friend, and through all the tears, drama and uncertainty that highschool and her life in general heaped down on her, he had been a constant friend.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" she inquired, mentally berating herself as she watched Jake force a smile in reply and he simply bobbed his head.

Jo watched Lilly begin to stalk away from the clearing, and instantly took off after her, gesturing to Dean that he should stay and talk to the crestfallen teenager.

Dean sighed heavily, mourning his girlfriend's absence as he watched her retreat, and he realised that the responsibility of the required heart to heart discussion now rested squarely on his own inadequate shoulders.

"So..." he began, rubbing his hands together and clearing his throat as Jake glanced up at him from behind a haze of tears, "I guess uh... look kid, I know it's gotta be rough... the whole Ducky/Andie thing you got going on here..."  
>At the blank and thoroughly confused expression Dean received in response, he shook his head and searched for a different point of reference.<p>

"Uh... Joey and... and... " Dean clicked his fingers in an attempt to coach his memory, "Dawson?"  
>Jake shook his head again, shrugging as he failed to understand the pop culture references.<br>"Okay, I got nothing," Dean accepted defeat, appalled at just how little mindless TV Jake had in fact been exposed to. Slapping Jake on the back as he prepared to stride away, Dean said simply, "Be a man about it. Either tell her how you feel and possibly get laid, or just get over it."

Jake stared after the older man dumb-founded, his mouth agape and his arms dangling by his sides. Dean shrugged, turned on his heel, and disappeared into the crowd, leaving the teen to contemplate the sparse and blunt words of advice, which to his own mind were utterly sound.

**x-x-x**

"Lilly?" Jo called, almost running in order to keep up with the girl as she wove in and out of the crowd, clearly intent upon reaching the lane in which many of the cars were parked.

"Hey, Lilly!"

Finally heeding her call, Lilly turned to regard Jo, a puzzled expression playing across her features as she pushed her glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose.

"Hey, sorry..." she murmured, her cheeks growing pink as she realised from the way that Jo puffed out a breath that she had likely been following her for some time. "I was... thinking. Guess I kind of drifted off into my own world."

"That's okay," Jo replied, forcing a smile as she watched the girl intently. She surveyed the petite and mousy looking teenager- standing with her hands tucked into her pockets and the toe of one sneaker continually scuffing the ground- and instantly felt a pang of sympathy stab at her.

"So, you and Jake..." Jo began, uncertain as to where to start and how the girl would respond to her gentle probing.

Lilly blanched and gave a tiny shrug, "Jake's just a friend. I mean... I don't... I don't think of him in that way, you know?"  
>Jo nodded in understanding, "He seems like he's a good friend... trying to look out for you."<br>Lilly sighed and pointedly avoided Jo's gaze; when she spoke next, her tone was laced with guilt and embarrassment.

"Look, I know I was kind of mean to him back there, I just..." however, she appeared to think better of confiding in a perfect stranger at the last moment, and finished bluntly, "I just want to be left alone."  
>Jo was about to reply when Lilly took off once again, stalking across the clearing toward her friend, who was sitting on the hood of a car, looking decidedly worse for wear.<p>

"Crap," Jo muttered under her breath, hurrying off after the teen. "Hey, Lilly... wait up!"  
>Lilly blatantly ignored her calls this time, hoisting her bag further up her shoulder as she marched on ahead. As she drew level with the hood of the car, a beat up and badly rusted old Buick, the girl lifted her head and affixed Lily with a lopsided smile.<p>

"Lil..." she slurred in greeting, grimacing as a loud belch escaped her lips. Her fingertips fluttered to her mouth as though in surprise and she muttered a faintly embarrassed 'excuse me' as she noted Jo's presence.

"Tasha," Lilly replied, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger as she realised that her friend was beyond drunk. "How much did you drink?"

"A couple beers..." Tasha answered, her gaze lingering inquisitively upon Jo's features, "and Lexi brought vodka... s'good..."

"Your Mom is going to flip," said Lilly, blowing out a breath and rolling her eyes as she clasped the redhead's elbow and ushered her off the car. "Your ass will be grounded until prom."

"Mmm-hmm..." Tasha agreed, her eyes practically rolling as she struggled to focus her gaze on Lilly's face, and found it an almost impossible task. She settled instead for shooting her friend a beaming and somewhat vacant smile that struck up faint amusement within Jo, as she recalled the time her mother had discovered her in a similar state in the cellar of the Roadhouse at the age of sixteen, after her first date had gone horribly wrong.

"Do you guys need a hand?" Jo offered, suddenly pitying Lilly, who it seemed had adopted an almost matriarchal role in life thanks to a combination of bad parenting and circumstances.

"No, we're good thank you," Lilly replied, and although her tone was cordial it left no room for argument. Her brows knitted together and she affixed Jo with an almost suspicious look, which the hunter attempted to deflect with a smile.

"Lilly's got it..." Tasha added, hanging off the smaller girl's shoulder as she tottered, "she's like totally awesome... I mean... if I was a guy... or a lesbian... I'd like so totally be into her..."

"Thank you, Tasha," Lilly grumbled, her cheeks reddening as she glared murderously at her friend, who was providing Jo with no end of entertainment on what had otherwise proven to be a very boring evening.

"She's like... super smart too..." the girl pressed on, either unaffected by Lilly's stare or simply un-noticing. Given her current state, Jo assumed it to be the latter. "She's like top of every class..."

"She doesn't need to know my life story, Tasha," Lilly snapped, her tone growing cold and her eyes narrowing to slits as she glared at the other teen. Tasha stumbled and Lilly hauled her to her feet before she could make an unceremonious descent to the ground. She shot Lilly a simpering smile and pointed at her with one shaking index finger.

"See? Awesome!" she enthused, hiccupping and then releasing a high pitched giggle that sounded wholly unnatural given the timbre of her speaking voice. Jo covered her mouth with her palm, resisting the urge to laugh, and arched an eyebrow at Lilly.

"She's totally gonna be valedictorian too," Tasha added, her head tipped as she peered almost snootily down her nose at Jo. "She's acing everything... her English essay won like this big... big... nationwide... contest thingy... and she got like... prize money and... everything..."

"Congratulations," Jo observed in an obligatory manner, offering Lilly a small smile, which the girl greeted with a nod. "English kind of used to be my thing. Even went to school at Columbia for a while."

Lilly nodded, seeming almost impressed by that titbit, before she replied modestly, "Really, it's not a big deal. It was just a state contest, and I got a fifty-dollar gift certificate for Applebees."

"What was the subject?" Jo inquired, genuinely intrigued now as she found herself treading some common ground with the teen. Although her time at school had been short lived, it had not been the academic side of the scene that had failed to live up to her expectations. Jo had enjoyed every minute of her course and had even been a little sad when the frosty reception she endured from her peers eventually forced her to reconsider her choices.

Lilly glanced at the ground, poised to respond when Tasha interjected again.

"That movie... well... not the movie... book, I guess... but the one with that dude... the dude all the moms like... John something..." Tasha babbled, oblivious to the look of stricken horror that passed across Lilly's face. She paled visibly as Jo's eyes became trained unwaveringly upon her. "That film was sick, man... a headless guy on a horse with a sword and... and shit... I don't feel so good."

Tasha tucked one arm under her ribs and leaned low to the ground, where she proceeded to empty the contents of her stomach loudly into the soil and leaves. Lilly grimaced and turned her head to the side, one hand resting in mild comfort on the base of her friend's back as she wretched and groaned pathetically.

"Johnny Depp?" Jo demanded, one eyebrow arched as she peered from Tasha to Lilly and back again. "Was that it?"

Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, Tasha nodded, before sinking back onto the ground and curling her knees into her chest. Lilly stared at Jo, her expression unreadable, but her eyes watering with unshed tears.

Jo closed her eyes and sighed in a mixture of disappointment and realisation, "It's you- you're controlling the horseman."

Lilly shook her head, her eyes widening to convey her innocence, "No, no... i-it's not what you think!"  
>"You can't expect me to believe that, Lilly," Jo said gravely, watching as Tasha cast a thoroughly confused glance between the two and then stumbled to her feet.<br>Lilly winced as Tasha's weight knocked her momentarily off balance, and she sighed wearily as she regarded the hunter, "I swear, it's not me, okay? I just... I just wrote a paper on the thing, that's all, I swear to you."  
>"Are you like Buffy or something?" Tasha slurred, her eyes rolling comically around her head as she tried to discern which of the Jo's she could see to point her shaking finger at.<p>

Jo ignored the question and folded her arms across her chest, her stance more than conveying her distaste for any lies Lilly was about to tell.

"Lilly, you need to tell me the truth, I can't help you if..."  
>"I am!" Lilly yelled, her cheeks flushing with rage as she secured her arm around her swaying friend's waist and attempted to lead her out of Jo's path, "and it's not me you need to worry about. I'm not the one trying to take on the horseman with a kitchen knife and an attitude problem."<p>

Jo groaned and slammed her hand to her forehead, wondering if she had been as annoying as a teenager as the youths that populated the town seemed to be.

"Alright... you- come with me," Jo demanded, giving Lilly no time to argue as she seized her arm and all but frog-marched her across the clearing. She deftly side-stepped the swaying, alcohol infused teens who staggered across their path.  
>"Hey, wait... wait!" Tasha called out, slamming her hand to her mouth as another wave of nausea overcame her.<p>

"Tell me everything," snapped Jo, her soft demeanour having evaporated now given the severity of the situation.

"I bought a copy of the book, I wrote a paper... my essay won and then... well, a couple days later the killings started," Lilly confessed, a renegade tear sliding from one eye. She brushed it away with the pad of her thumb, continuing quickly, "But I swear I didn't do anything. There are stories... that the horseman isn't just a legend... that it really happened right here in Sleepy Hollow, and that one day, he'll rise again to avenge all the wrongs in the town. It has to be true."

"Well, don't believe everything you read," Jo replied sardonically, her brow furrowing as inspiration suddenly struck her. "Where the hell did you get that book?"

Jo scanned the crowd for Dean, finding herself growing more irate with each lapsing second.  
>"I got it from a thrift store. I needed a copy of it for my project, it looked kind of cool..." she shrugged, "I like old stuff."<br>"You got it with you?" Jo asked, frowning as she received no reply to her question.  
>Turning her head, she noted that both Lilly and Tasha had stopped walking, and were now merely staring over toward a clearing of trees. Jo whipped around, her heart hammering as she anticipated the gruesome sight of a demonic horse and its headless, bloodthirsty rider. What she saw instead was almost enough to make her wish her first conclusion had been true.<p>

"Hey, isn't that..." Tasha began, leaning forward and screwing up her eyes to force the figures in the distance into sharper focus.  
>"Jake..." Lilly finished, her subdued tone conveying her shock.<br>"Ew." Tasha wrinkled her nose and cast a suitably derisive sneer over toward the boy, "Why does he have his tongue down Casey Jackson's throat? Doesn't he know where she's been?"

Lilly merely shook her head and tried to muster a smile to dismiss any further questions, yet Jo recognised the uncertainty and sadness behind the gesture. Clearly Lilly's feelings for the boy were complicated; something Jo herself understood all too well.

As if feeling their eyes upon him, Jake pushed himself away from the girl's apparently vehement embrace, and stumbled toward the three women wearing a shell-shocked expression.  
>"Lilly, oh hey! I-I uh... I can explain," he stammered, his own features clouding over with sadness as Lilly simply shrugged and rolled her eyes.<br>"Doesn't matter, I mean, it's nothing to do with me, right?" she replied. Jo shook her head in despair and simply tugged on Lilly's arm, now leading a group of three similarly disgruntled and troubled teenagers behind her, and feeling more than a little like a camp counsellor in one of those low budget horror movies that Dean loved.

Spying Dean walking toward them, Jo breathed a partial sigh of relief and held up her hand to attract his attention. After depositing a staggering teenaged boy down onto an upturned log, Dean paused to speak to the guy's friends before then heading across the grass toward his girlfriend.

"Okay, that guy is _hot_!" Tasha enthused, a grin suddenly appearing on her face as she watched Dean approach. Although she moved to whisper in her fiend's ear, Tasha's drunken ramblings were audible to all in the party, "Do I got puke on my face? Does my breath smell?"

Lilly turned away with a grimace, affixing her gaze upon Jo as Dean drew to a halt by her side.

"It's a cursed book," Jo blurted out, wasting no time in filling Dean in on her discoveries. He blinked in apparent confusion, glancing at each of the assembled teens in turn, before turning back to Jo.

"Come again?" he inquired, rubbing the back of his neck and frowning.

"Lilly picked up an old copy of 'The Legend of Sleepy Hollow' at a thrift store. She used it to write a paper, and a couple of days later, the horseman shows up and starts murdering the kids that she has issues with," Jo explained patiently, keeping her voice low in order not to be overheard by any of the surrounding partygoers. She need not have worried however, as the oblivious teens continued to drink and gyrate to tuneless dance beats that played from a stereo someone had rested against a tree.

"I didn't do anything on purpose," Lilly cried out in protest, growing visibly upset as Dean glared at her. Seeing her distress, he seemed to soften a little, offering her a kind smile that almost set her off on a crying jag.

"I'm not saying you did," replied Jo, resting one hand lightly on the girl's arm and squeezing in a gesture of reassurance, "but in this case, the act of reading the book was enough to bring the curse to life. You couldn't have known, but the horseman is acting on your behalf."

"Wait... what?" Jake, who had been silent until this point, demanded incredulously, his nose wrinkled and features contorted with disbelief. He stared at Jo as though she had lost her mind, and then directed his gaze upon Lilly.

"This chick is crazy, Lil," he said, shooting Jo a glance and taking a slight step back as he was met by her look of intense fury. "Tell me you're not buying this bull?"

"People have died, Jake," Lilly bit back, her tone sharp. "The curse is real and right now, so is the horseman."

"I take it back..." Jake answered, holding up both hands before him, "you're all bat-shit crazy."

"Do you have the book?" Dean pressed, his eyes sweeping Lilly's face, which was clouded with guilt at the prospect that she had brought down such misery upon the residents of her own quiet and subdued little town.

"Uh, yeah... it's in my bag," she nodded, wiping the back of her hand over her face as she tried to dispel tears, and then hauled the rucksack down from her shoulder.  
>Tasha stumbled forward with the motion, finding herself suddenly free of her friend's supportive grasp, and she tottered unsteadily as her legs bowed underneath her. She landed in Dean's arms with a high pitched shriek, and Dean sighed as he caught the teen and tried to re-steady her on her own two errant feet.<p>

Leaning her chin on his shoulder, Tasha smiled up dreamily at the hunter, her eyes creasing as she grinned at him, "You're so pretty!"  
>Dean frowned and held her at arm's length, finding her drunken gawking annoying, and her vomit scented breath offensive.<br>"Thanks," he smiled tightly, watching as Lilly dug frantically through her bag for the book.  
>"Oh, hey..." he jumped visibly and shoved Tasha away as she grabbed at his upper thigh, continuing to smile up at him inanely.<p>

Depositing her into Jake's clearly unwilling care, Dean side-stepped closer to Jo, ignoring the amused snickers she was trying to mask behind her hand as he eyed the teenaged girl half in fear.

"It's not here!" Lilly stared up at them wide-eyed, her cheeks visibly draining of colour as she peered at the couple with a panic stricken expression.

"Well, calm down, maybe it's at home?" Jo suggested, crouching down onto the ground with the girl as she upturned her bag onto the floor and began to rifle frantically through the content. Dean looked away swiftly as tampons and other personal items dropped to the leaf strewn ground, whilst Jo unconcernedly searched through the mess with Lilly.

"No, I had it... I was reading it on my break this afternoon," Lilly replied, shaking her head as she began to grab her belongings and shove them back inside her satchel.

"Then it's at the restaurant," Jake answered as though it were obvious. "Geez, you guys, if this is a prank..."

"This is no prank, Scrappy Doo," Dean barked, his tone suddenly clipped and authoritative as he gazed levelly at the boy. Jake paused, one arm encircled around Tasha's waist in order to hold her somewhat upright.

"Jake, this is real," Lilly whispered, and something about the odd tremor that affected her voice alerted Jake to the fact that this indeed was no joke. He nodded, very slowly, and rapidly his face became as ashen as Lilly's.

"We'll get back to the car and drive to the restaurant to look," Dean suggested, poised to continue when Jo shook her head quickly and interjected.

"Not our only problem, sweetheart. Lilly said some kids from school have rounded up a gang and are out for blood," Jo revealed, exchanging irritated and half amused looks with Dean, who pressed one palm to his forehead in despair.

"Great, vigilante justice against the bloodthirsty, physical embodiment of an ancient, powerful curse," Dean said with a wry smirk, "this should end well."

Jo nodded, pursing her lips as her hands settled on her hips, about to speak when Tasha interrupted.  
>"I don't feel so good," she groaned, her graying complexion causing both hunters to side-step out of the way of any possible projectile vomiting that might occur.<br>"What are we gonna do with her?" Dean demanded, feeling his stomach lunge in dread as he feared he already knew the answer to that question.  
>"I have to go back the restaurant to get the book," Lilly said helplessly, glancing up at Jake as he too appeared to have been caught up in the situation.<br>"I guess we can go on my scooter," he suggested, casting a suspicious glance down at Tasha as she slammed her hand to her mouth and muttered something incomprehensible. She appeared moments away from wretching once again, and Jake was eager to be far, far away when that time came.

"Great, so we get stuck with Linda Blair," Dean sighed as Jo wrinkled her nose and hesitantly began to lead Tasha away. The two hunters trudged toward the Impala, both now immersed in a thoroughly foul mood.

"Can we stick her head out of the window or something?" Dean suggested, genuinely afraid to contemplate the damage she could cause to the interior of his prized car.

Jo shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that alerted Dean to the fact that she had become so utterly irritated by the situation at hand, and the untimely demise of their vacation, that she was willing to allow anything to slide.

Shooting Jo a wan smile, Dean clambered into the driver's seat of the Impala, and he watched his girlfriend settling the drunken teen in the back before fastening her safety belt.

**x-x-x**

They made it to the bridge in record time, Dean's foot pressing the accelerator flat to the floor as Tasha clung onto the seat rest and made a valiant attempt not to throw up again.

By the time they had parked up, Jo had become fully resigned to a fight and was busily loading her handgun, whilst Dean continued to curse himself for ever having decided that the infamous town of Sleepy Hollow would undoubtedly live up to its name.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Dean sighed, pausing momentarily to shoot Jo a repentant look which she dismissed instantly with a brief yet pointed kiss.

Tasha groaned in annoyance from the back seat, sighing as she closed her eyes and lay back groggily against the leather interior, "The hot guys always have girlfriends."

She glowered, wrinkling her nose as the sound of a repeated kiss penetrated her hazy state of consciousness.  
>"Can you... not..." she began, suddenly blinking her eyes open in horror as she heard what sounded suspiciously like the safety catch of a gun being released, and added, "never mind."<p>

"So, what's the plan?" Jo asked, straining against the darkness that surrounded them to try to locate the group of testosterone fuelled morons that had summoned them to the bridge.  
>"We hold off the horseman until they burn the damn book," Dean shrugged, not having contemplated much of a plan beyond saving the undeserving youths and making sure the cursed book was appropriately dealt with.<p>

Jo nodded, running her hand through to the ends of her hair as she smiled tightly and tried to ignore the snores now emanating from behind them, "And how exactly do we do that?"

Dean shrugged, shaking his head as he began to clamber out of the car, Jo in his wake. They slammed the doors in almost perfect unison but Tasha did not stir, for which Dean was thankful as he locked the doors behind them; the girl would undoubtedly be safer in the Impala than she would be stumbling around after the hunters.

"I got nothing, beyond avoid the giant sword," Dean replied, pausing in order to plant a kiss on Jo's cheek. Together, they began to stride through the undergrowth towards the bridge and the sound of raised voices. Dean had abandoned the Colt in the glove compartment on the ride over, realising that wasting a bullet on an apparition that stemmed from a cursed book would be a pointless exercise. Instead, he had armed himself with an enormous machete, which he carried more for appearances than effect.

They pushed through the branches of the trees, eyes sweeping the land, just in time to see the ebony horse thundering towards the crowd of boys, all of whom were wearing grimly determined expressions, and some kitted out in full football padding. Dean made a disgusted noise low in his throat before tearing towards the unfolding scene as the horseman bore down upon the kids, who all stood their ground on albeit trembling legs.

Cursing under her breath, Jo aimed her gun at the horseman's chest, firing a single shot that appeared to hit him square in the chest. He flinched for only a moment before suddenly turning his attention to one of the boys, who took off running toward the undergrowth as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Hit him again!" Dean yelled advancing on the horseman as Jo fired twice more at the apparition, who appeared to brush off the attack with little more than mild annoyance.  
>"It's not working, Dean!" Jo shouted back, suddenly growing concerned for Dean's wellbeing as the front legs of the horse reared up, and the headless rider turned his body in the hunter's direction.<p>

"Dean, get out of there!" Jo instructed, running toward Dean. As she watched, the spirit yanked hard on the reigns and steered the horse beneath him back toward the group of teens, who almost instantly released a chorus of screams.

"It's not me he wants," Dean stated darkly, sighing as he watched the teenagers break off in different directions, running zig-zag patterns through the woods.  
>"Now what?" Jo demanded, jamming salt rounds into the barrel of her gun before cocking the catch and then taking aim.<p>

"I guess we follow," he replied, grasping Jo's hand as the two hunters took off in the direction of the trees after the terrified boys, and the apparition hell-bent on ending them.

**x-x-x**

"Hurry!" Jake urged, his voice a minimal hiss as he loomed over Lilly's shoulder and encouraged her to work that much faster at opening the locked door of the restaurant.

"I'm trying, I'm trying," Lilly grumbled, letting out a tiny squeak of triumph as the lock released and the doors swung open. She rushed forwards into the restaurant, yelling out to Jake as she ran, "I'll get the alarm, you look for the book."

Nodding and bouncing on the balls of his feet for a moment, Jake dropped onto his hands and knees, beginning to crawl across the freshly swept floor as he hunted.

"Try the kitchen!" Lilly directed whilst she punched in the code that would deactivate the furiously trilling alarms.

Jake nodded, scrambling to his feet and reaching out a clumsy hand to hit each light switch as he ran past.

Scanning the tiled, impossibly glossy floor, Jake stooped beside the side of the counters, ducking his head to try to get a look underneath each of the metal units. Sighing as he failed to locate the book, Jake leapt to his feet and turned the corner into the preparation area. He frowned as his foot instantly connected with something, and his eyes widened in panic as he realised he had just kicked the book in question underneath the storage racks.

"Lil! I found it!" he called out, throwing himself down onto the ground and reaching his hand underneath the shelf, his fingers straining to reach the edge of the dust cover.  
>"Damn it!" he growled, attempting to wedge himself further under the unit, but with little success.<p>

**x-x-x**

"Dean!" Jo yelled, brown eyes burning with concern and fury as she watched her boyfriend shimmy easily up a nearby tree. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Round the kids up, get them to the other side of the bridge if you can," Dean said quickly, already half way up the wide trunk. He reached above his head and seized a strong, overhanging branch, using it to haul himself up onto a wide bough that jutted out over the path.

"Dean..." Jo cautioned, her tone low and eyes narrowed as she watched Dean.

"I'll be fine," Dean promised, his head whipping up as the sound of hooves turning over the ground suddenly resounded around them once again, accompanied by the terrified cries of Joe Macconi.

Jo leapt off the path and into the undergrowth just in time as the horse and its unearthly rider rounded the bend in pursuit of the teenager, who was whimpering as he scrambled across the dirt and leaves.

"This way!" called Jo, waving her arms above her head in order to attract the boy's attention. His wide eyes affixed upon Jo's and the boy suddenly raced after the hunter as she took off in the direction of the bridge.

"Hey, come on!" Jo shouted, gesturing to the other teenagers as they hesitated and cast a flickering gaze between her and the horseman.

"Move your asses, NOW!" Jo barked, her expression giving them little room for argument.  
>Scampering behind her toward the bridge, the half-dozen boys did not stop to cast so much as a glance back at the stranger who had come to their rescue. They pushed past Jo in their all-encompassing fear as she stopped to watch Dean's progress.<p>

"Lady, are you crazy?" Joe called back, swallowing hard and holding up his hands as he noted the gun she gripped tight.

Jo ignored the teen, wincing as Dean hurled himself from his perch and onto the saddle behind the horseman. The creature turned it's body, and the two became engaged in hand to hand combat, Dean blocking some punishing blows with his machete.

Gesturing for the boy to continue toward the relative safety of the bridge, Jo ran uneasily, stopping every few feet to check back on Dean and the horseman.

**x-x-x**

Her entire body shaking, Lilly dropped down onto the kitchen floor and stretched out her left arm as far as it would go towards the lost book. Her fingers missed the cover of the novel by inches and Lilly let out a loud groan as she realised that the unit was too heavy to be moved without extra help.

"Grab me a spatula," Lilly commanded, suddenly whipping her head around and staring up at Jake, who faltered for a moment before diving across the metal worktop in search of the required tool. Seconds later, he seized a spatula that had been hanging from a ceiling rack with a triumphant grin. He tossed it towards Lilly, who plucked it from the air, before returning her attention to the book.

Gripping the spatula handle in her left hand, Lilly slid the metal instrument underneath the counter. She felt the broad, flat end connect with the spine of the book and, using all of her strength, she flicked her wrist and sent the heavy tome skittering out from its hiding place across the tiles. Jake slammed his foot down on top of the cover, his eyes wide as he stared at Lilly.

**x-x-x**

"Dean!" Jo screamed, her fear now palpable as the horseman gripped her boyfriend by the throat with one strong hand, whilst reaching to withdraw his sword from its sheath with the other. Dean's machete had been lost, and the hunter was left at a definite disadvantage without his weapon.

Jo ran forwards, all regard for her own safety dismissed now given Dean's predicament. His eyes were wide, practically popping out of his head, and he was using both hands to claw at the horseman's gloved fingers.

Taking aim at the open neck of the phantom, Jo fired two shots in quick succession, the force of which gave the ghost little choice other than to relieve it's hold on Dean's throat. They both tumbled to the ground in a heap.

"Jo... get out of here!" Dean bleated, climbing to his feet as he rubbed his neck and cast a pleading look at his girlfriend.  
>"Like hell I will," Jo fumed, reloading her gun with rounds from her pocket as the horseman loomed above them. He unsheathed his sword- the blade catching the moonlight as he raised it above his head in a wide arc- and prepared to cleave the hunters with the weapon.<p>

Leaping clear of the sword as it sliced through the air, Dean pushed Jo out of the way, and the two bolted for the clearing, leaving the ghost to climb back up onto his stead.

"What the hell's taking them so long?" Dean groused, whispering to Jo as the two ran for cover into a copse of trees.

**x-x-x**

"Matches, matches... where the freakin' hell are the matches?" Jake all but screamed as he rifled to no avail through the fourth draw in the row. Lilly shook her head, her eyes visibly tearing as she glanced at the book, which lay on the side of the counter.

"Don't yell at me," Lilly whined in response, researching the drawers that Jake had already scoured.

"Well, if you hadn't bought a cursed book, none of this would be happening," Jake snapped, clearly beginning to lose his patience as the severity of the situation dawned on him. "How do we not know where the damn matches are?"

"The grill," Lilly said suddenly, running over to the industrial cooker and beginning to twiddle the knobs on the front. She flicked the switch to ignite the gas and then turned the dial up the maximum, leaping back slightly as a roar of flames resounded throughout the kitchen.

"Will that even work?" Jake demanded, seizing the book and making his way over to the oven. Lilly shrugged, her eyes narrowed in a display of determination as she replied.

"I guess there's one way to find out."

Throwing the book unceremoniously onto the naked flame, Lilly stood back and watched with relief as the fire began to slowly seep through the leather binding, and ignited the pages with a sudden spark.

"Now what?" Jake demanded, the colour slowly returning to his face as his heart rate began to slow.

Lilly dug her cell phone out of her pocket, hastily stabbing at the buttons as she accessed the number Jo had stored in her phonebook.

"We see if it worked, I guess?" Lilly offered, biting down on her lip, as she held the phone up to her ear and awaited an answer.

**x-x-x**

Dean and Jo could do little but watch in a combination of horror and fear as the apparition continued towards them, sword drawn and cloak swirling out behind him. The horse snorted, dispelling a cloud of smoke from its nostrils, but it did not break pace from the canter it was currently engaged in. With nowhere left to run, and with the teenagers huddled together behind them, the hunters could do little but wait for the horseman to draw level with their group, and attempt to fend him off once again.

"Go for the chest... seems to be his weak spot..." Jo advised, her brown eyes never once wavering from the figure on horseback, who cut such a formidable adversary given his apparent imperviousness to harm. Dean nodded, shooting a glance at Jo, and then slowly smiled. The two hunters leaned forwards and, for the briefest of moments, their lips met in a tender kiss that each was hopeful would not be their last.

Turning their attentions back to the horseman, Dean and Jo raised their weapons, and stood their ground with grim determination.

"Where did he go?" Dean demanded, blinking furiously as he whirled around on the spot. Suddenly, it seemed that the apparition was nowhere to be seen, and also absent was the previously deafening pounding of hooves. The teens let out simultaneous sighs of relief, and one even choked out a sob that ordinarily would have had Dean grinning from ear to ear. Now however, he was too preoccupied with locating the spirit to pay much mind to the actions of the civilians.

"The book?" Jo guessed, still holding her gun high as she too surveyed the woodland. Like Dean, she saw and heard nothing beyond the faint rustle of tree branches in the gentle nighttime breeze.

Jo started as her cell phone bleeped from her pocket, and she dug around for it quickly before stabbing the connect button and raising it to her ear. She spoke quietly so as not to alarm their companions further, but it was evident to Dean from the small smile that tugged at her lips that the news was good. Muttering goodbye, Jo hung up, and jammed her phone back into her pocket. Glaring at the boys, still hugging each other for dear life, she spoke up.

"Let's get these morons home," she said, annunciating the insult clearly, "party's over."

**x-x-x**

"It's over..." Lilly breathed, her eyes alight with joy behind the lenses of her glasses as she turned her gaze upon Jake, "it's really over."

The boy let out the breath he had been holding and, suddenly, before Lilly could even begin to react, Jake seized her shoulders and dragged her towards him. Their lips met rapidly and forcefully, but Lilly found herself soon dissolving into the kiss, her knees growing embarrassingly weak as Jake's tongue teased her own.

Lilly pulled away from their kiss in wide eyed wonder, her heart pounding so loudly in her chest that she was certain Jake would be able to hear it.

Peering down at the ground, a blush rose up the boy's cheeks as he considered the repercussions of his actions, and he awaited the yelling he felt sure would now commence.  
>Clearing her throat nervously, Lilly stared up at her friend and gingerly extended a hand out to him.<p>

"You uh... you want to grab a coke or something?" she stammered, holding her breath until his eyes finally met hers.

An expression of obvious relief clouded Jake's features, and he nodded vehemently at her suggestion. Slipping her hand through his, Lilly led him out through the restaurant, certain that this time, life was about to take a turn for the better.

**x-x-x**

Casting a fleeting glance toward the doorway, Dean flipped his cell phone closed and jammed it back into his pocket mere seconds before Jo entered the room.

"Did I hear you talking to someone?" she asked, apparently forgetting all about her current ensemble as Dean fell instantly silent and simply took in the sight before him with eager eyes.

"Dean?" she tried again, smiling and rolling her eyes as his gaze skimmed her bare legs. Planting her hands on her hips, she glanced down at the AC/DC t-shirt she wore and cocked her head to prompt a reply.  
>"Uh... no. Yes... huh?" he shook his head, gratefully accepting the bottle of beer she offered him, before he watched her stroll across the room toward the stereo. Pursing her lips, Jo stabbed at a button and then turned to regard Dean, sporting an inviting smile as the strains of a Led Zeppelin song pervaded the air.<p>

"Zeppelin IV?" Dean observed, waggling his eyebrows as Jo masked a smirk with a sip of her beer.

"Pizza will be here in a half hour," she said, shooting him a pointed look. "I guess we should make the most of our last night."

She let out a quiet sigh that was only just detectable, and immediately Dean felt his lips twist into an excited and telling smile.

"About that," he began, motioning for Jo to join him on the couch as he patted the cushion between his legs. Grinning, she crossed the room and settled obediently into the seat, leaning back against Dean's chest.

"Mmm?" Jo queried, allowing her eyelids to flutter closed as she waited for Dean to conclude his sentence. He rested one hand lightly atop the crown of her head, smoothing her silky hair down with his palm before he continued.

"Just got off the phone with Sam," Dean said, kissing Jo's bare neck, "told him about the unscheduled hunt, and he's granted us a forty-eight hour reprieve."

"Seriously?" Jo demanded, sitting up a little straighter and affixing Dean with a questioning look over her shoulder. He merely nodded, his fingertips stroking the top of her thigh now as it peaked out from beneath the hem of the t-shirt.

"I figured it was our last night here..." Jo grinned, sighing airily as Dean's hand slipped beneath the t-shirt and she awaited the reaction she knew was imminent. Dean's eyes widened almost on cue, and Jo giggled as she felt his chest rise in a deep breath behind her.

"Jesus, Jo... Is this all you're wearing?" he checked, his tone betraying his disbelief but also his sincere approval for her choice of ensemble, or lack thereof.  
>"Uh-huh," she confirmed, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth as his fingertips curled around her upper thigh.<br>"Well I hope you weren't planning on opening the door to the pizza guy like that..." Dean exclaimed, feigning shock and yet finding himself reminded once again of just how much he loved her.

Resting her hands atop of his, Jo leant back against his chest, releasing a deeply contented sigh as she felt his lips begin to map a course down her cheek toward her neck.  
>"You know... despite the whole 'creepy legend comes to life' thing, I had a really good time," she allowed, sensing Dean's smile as he digested her words.<p>

"Well, it's not over yet, sweetheart," Dean replied happily, lifting his gaze to her deep brown eyes as she reached her hand back to cup his cheek.  
>"We don't leave the damn cabin!" Jo stipulated the terms of their prolonged stay and arched an eyebrow to convey her seriousness.<br>"I'm totally okay with that," Dean agreed, craning his neck and leaning closer as their lips met.

A knock on the door soon forced them apart and Jo climbed to her feet, deftly swiping up their two beer bottles from the table. Padding toward the hallway, she gestured toward the door as Dean dug in his pocket for his wallet.

"You get the door and I'm gonna... relocate," Jo announced, her teasing and wholly promising smile more than expressing her intentions.

Blowing out an unsteady breath, Dean sprinted for the door, although he found that once again his appetite for food was rivaled by his desire for more carnal pleasures.

Throwing open the door and thrusting a wad of dollar bills at the unsuspecting delivery guy, Dean grabbed the pizza box with little more than a nod of thanks, before he kicked the door shut behind him.

With an impossibly wide smile illuminating his face, Dean strode down the hall in pursuit of his girlfriend, musing on the thought of pizza, a six pack, side one of Zeppelin IV, and the rewards they would secure.

**The End of Episode Six**

**(Next Episode – Mary's Boys)**


	19. Chapter 19

_**Authors' Note – We hope you all enjoy this little nod to Momma Winchester. **_

_**We still own nothing. We still dream of owning Dean.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Episode 7 – Part 1<strong>_

'_**Mary's Boys'**_

**x-x-x**

_**Lawrence, Kansas**_

_**January 29**__**th**__** 1981**_

Time passed in a blur these days; albeit a content, happy rush of rising, playing, and then sleeping once again, but a blur nonetheless. As she popped her head around the lounge door, watching her young son intently, Mary Winchester could not help the satisfied smile that immediately formed upon her lips.

Little Dean's birthday had been almost a week ago and at now two years old the boy was a definite miniature version of his father. Not that Mary minded in the slightest; after all, John's striking green eyes had been the feature that had first endeared him to her when his smart mouth and arrogant air had failed to do so. Dean appeared to favour his father in many ways, from the determined, square set of his jaw, to his shock of thick dark hair, and the decidedly stubborn attitude that was beginning to rear its head alongside the infamous 'terrible twos'. However, Dean was a sweet child, and Mary did not anticipate a great deal of trouble. Currently, Dean was sitting cross legged in the centre of the floor, a bowl of popcorn cradled in his arms, as he watched the tin man and scarecrow dance across the screen in vivid colours that had amazed him upon first appearance.

Mary watched for a while longer unbeknown to the entranced toddler before she returned to the kitchen and her list of morning chores, which she was in a hurry to complete in order to join her son on his first introduction to Oz.

Busying herself with pouring milk into Dean's 'Cookie Monster' sippy cup, Mary grinned upon hearing a peel of childish laughter from her son, and she hastened her movements so as to reach him sooner. Returning the milk carton to the refrigerator, she pressed down the lid of the cup and turned toward the lounge.

The cup clattered to the ground with a hollow thud as the beaming face of a strange man suddenly drew her gaze. His eyes creased at the corners with the weight of his smile, and he held his hands together in front of his abdomen as he regarded her with a strangely solemn air.

"Who the hell are you? And what are you doing in my house?" Mary demanded, her blue eyes darting furtively around the kitchen for a makeshift weapon, before she shot a glance toward the lounge in concern for her child.  
>"Do not be afraid," the man stated calmly, flinching as in one swift movement Mary seized a kitchen knife from the drainer and pressed the blade firm against his throat. Swallowing hard, the man's eyes widened as he struggled to convey the rest of his message.<p>

"I'm an angel of the Lord..." a small, ill-timed smirk twitched at his lips as he regarded the petite blonde with obvious amusement.

"You know, this went a whole lot smoother the last time," he cocked an eyebrow and found himself met with a stony, thoroughly disbelieving glare. "The 'other' Mary was a lot less hostile... And also not armed."

"I'm gonna ask you one more time. Who are you, and what do you want?" Mary demanded, her jaw clenched in anger, and she pressed the blade of the knife that little bit harder against the intruder's bobbing Adam's apple.  
>"I told you, I'm an angel of the Lord..." he choked out, "you might have heard of me in that little book you find in motel rooms?"<p>

Receiving a disbelieving grunt in response, the apparent angel glanced down at the weapon at his neck and then up into the woman's delicate features, which were knitted together with alarm.

"This is gonna go a whole lot easier on us both if you just believe me on that score, okay? Geez, I thought Sam and Dean were tough cookies to convince. Alright, first of all, we need to give you your memories back..."

"W-what...?" Mary stammered, blinking in shock as a leathery fluttering sound filled her ears before the man proclaiming to be an angel disappeared from sight. Mary lowered the knife too soon, only realising her perhaps fatal error as the intruder reappeared behind her and one arm snaked across her shoulder. Opening her mouth in preparation to cry out a warning to Dean, Mary suddenly slumped in the man's arms as soon as the tip of his index finger connected with her brow.

No words left Mary's pink, parted lips as a thousand memories and fragments of long buried meetings assailed her mind at one hundred miles per hour. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly and images of two men, both oddly familiar and carrying themselves with an air of alarming sobriety, flashed before her eyes. After several seconds had elapsed, Mary Winchester was still; bent double in a stranger's arms as he stroked a lock of hair from her forehead with an almost tender caress.

A flutter of wings, and the kitchen was empty.

**x-x-x**

Little Dean trudged into the kitchen in search of his mother, the sole thought plaguing his mind being the desire for juice. Mommy rarely allowed him to drink juice, preferring him to stick to milk or water on account of all the sugar, but since it had been his birthday a couple of days back, Dean was hopeful that juice just may be on the cards.

"Mommy?" he lisped, his hand drifting to his rear as he adjusted his diaper, the bulk of which hampered his movements somewhat. Mommy and Daddy had been working on getting Dean to use the potty lately, but Dean remained suspicious of its function, and reluctant to co-operate. He repeated in a somewhat louder plea, "Mommy? T'irsty!"

His green eyes widening fearfully, Dean toddled across the floor toward the spot he had last seen his mother occupying. Reaching out a dimpled hand, he picked up the fallen cup and his little eyebrows furrowed at the pool of milk ebbing across the tiles. Clearly his birthday treats had come to an end, and milk was unfortunately on the menu once again.

"Cookies!" he enthused, scratching his fingernail over the image of the monster printed onto the blue plastic. The picture only distracted him momentarily though, and too soon his need to find his mother became all consuming for the two year old. Dangling the cup carelessly from his fingers, Dean padded around the kitchen, his diaper creasing with each step he took.

"Mommy? Where you _go_?" he called out, emphasis pointedly on the final word. His bottom lip began to quiver as he found no sign of his usually adoring and attentive parent.

"Mommy?" Dean sniffled, suddenly dropping down onto the ground and throwing the sippy cup to his side in temper. Inhaling deeply, he began rubbing at his eyes, and panicked tears rapidly overcame him. Sobbing into his balled up fists, the toddler found himself alone and afraid, calling out for his mother and receiving only silence in return.

**x-x-x**

_**Harvelle's Roadhouse, Nebraska**_

_**Present day**_

Jo shuffled around the kitchen of the roadhouse, empty coffee pot in hand, and stifled a yawn. She had been awake since dawn, having suffered an inexplicably broken night's sleep, and her mood was a sour one. Finally, after deciding that it would perhaps be best to chug a little coffee before either Sam or Dean awoke and became subjected to her fatigue induced bitching, Jo had slipped downstairs an hour before they usually rose.

The Winchesters started their day similarly; Dean with a brisk run, and Sam with more press-ups, crunches and lunges than Jo cared to count. Breakfast was an almost family affair and whilst Jo and Sam munched on yogurt and fruit, Dean perfected the art of waffle making, which was perhaps the main reason that as of late his morning runs had increased in distance.

However, Jo knew she had a while before the morning rituals commenced, and so she ferreted out the local newspaper as she set about preparing the strongest pot of coffee she could stand to drink.

Succumbing to another yawn, Jo stood on tip toe to retrieve a mug from the cabinet before she set it down on the counter, and stared longingly at the hissing coffee maker.  
>The alluring aroma of freshly brewing coffee eventually began to fill the kitchen, and Jo smiled as she dropped a spoonful of sugar into the mug and allowed the spoon to rest against the side. The light on the machine began to blink teasingly and Jo reached out her hand to retrieve the jug, now filled with her salvation.<p>

She paused as an inexplicable breeze bathed her cheek and, with a sense of alarm, Jo wheeled around in time to watch an unfamiliar figure materialise in the kitchen. Blue eyes met brown, and the two women stood unmoving before each other, no more than a couple of feet separating them.

Glancing around the kitchen, Jo's gaze came to rest on a block of kitchen knives almost in unison with the intruder. With confusion etched upon both their faces, the women lunged for each other.

In Jo's experience, with the exception of Castiel, it was generally only demons who made sudden and unannounced appearances in such a manner, and she would be damned if she would allow herself to be taken down by the forces of evil in her own kitchen whilst wearing her pink cupcake pyjamas.

"Who the hell are you?" Jo snarled, overpowering the other female and throwing her back against the marble kitchen counter. The blonde winced, her blue eyes narrowing as she landed an impressive punch to Jo's jaw that sent her reeling several paces backwards.

"Could ask you the same," the woman bit back, her hands immediately raised to chest height and her fingers balling into fists. Jo mirrored the defensive stance and the two circled each other for a moment, both breathing furiously.

"You're in my kitchen, sweetheart," Jo replied, head cocked to one side as she affixed the woman with the patterned _'Harvelle eye'_. "Start talking."

"Not a chance, you black eyed bitch," the annoyingly spry intruder spat, throwing herself at Jo across the kitchen. She seemed taken aback when the hunter grabbed her left arm and managed to pull it up behind her back, grinning triumphantly as the stranger let out a pained yelp.

"Who are you?" Jo repeated, holding the struggling woman with all of her strength. The stranger grunted, attempted to wrench her arm from Jo's hold, and when she failed to do so, whipped her head backwards to allow her skull to connect with Jo's nose at sickening speed.

Staggering backwards to stem the trickle of blood from her nose, Jo's elbow swiped the coffee pot from the counter and it smashed against the floor leaving a pool of dark brown liquid snaking through the shards of glass.

Almost immediately the thunder of footsteps could be heard emanating from the second floor, and both women glanced up at the source of the noise- the stranger with apparent unease.

Jo seized the advantage of distraction and landed a punch to the woman's jaw that sent her sprawling back against the kitchen table. She wiped the back of her hand uncertainly against her lip, and Jo felt a sense of satisfaction as she noted blood now colouring her front teeth.

Seconds later Sam and Dean barrelled through the kitchen door, each wearing similarly confused expressions. They had found themselves awoken by the unmistakable sound of a fist fight raging downstairs and, despite any early morning disorientation, they had wasted no time in investigating the fray.

Rushing to his girlfriend's side, Dean cast a brief glance at the intruder before returning his attention to Jo. It took only a second for realisation to hit, however, and with a double-take in the woman's direction, Dean's mouth fell open. He stood between the two fuming women, holding up a shaking hand to halt their altercation.

"Mom?" he breathed, his gaze flicking between the two warring blondes as one sniffed through a bloody nose and the other prodded tentatively at a split lip.  
>"What the hell?" Sam began, his head whipping around as he tried to make sense of the scene before him. Gingerly reaching for a small bottle of holy water located on the shelf beside him, Sam winced apologetically at his mother before he thrust the content of the vial at her. Mary Winchester simply wiped at her damp cheek and stared up at her son in equal disbelief.<p>

"Sorry, I- I just had to be sure," Sam stammered, unable to tear his gaze away from the young woman before him, of whom he had so few real memories.

"Sam... Dean..." she looked between the brothers, shaking her head as if she had no understanding of how or why she was now standing before her two grown sons.

Pulling Jo into his chest and dabbing a clean dish towel against her left nostril, Dean smiled weakly. He glanced between the blondes, having never believed that the two most important women in his life would ever meet- on this earth, at least.

"_Mom_?" Jo repeated, more than a shred of disbelief colouring her tone. She narrowed her eyes somewhat analytically as she looked from Sam to Dean and then towards the stranger in her kitchen they had both identified as their mother. The woman was slight and small, like Jo herself, and their physical resemblance from their build to their cascading blonde waves and the assured way in which they both carried themselves, was striking. She wore a pair of faded denim flared jeans and a salmon pink cheese-cloth shirt that hung loosely off her petite frame. Her hair was pulled back from her face by two barrettes, but despite this one decidedly feminine touch, she wore little make-up or jewellery save from a gold wedding band and a locket. When she inclined her head just so in the bright light of the kitchen, Jo could just about make out the physical similarities between Mary and her youngest son. Jo blinked in surprise, her cheeks reddening a little.

The only picture of Mary Winchester that Jo had ever seen had been one that Dean had foraged from his late father's belongings, and slipped inside his own wallet. Since Jo rarely had cause to go there, her glimpses of the old black and white print had been few and far between. She reminded herself of this fact as guilt and embarrassment collided, staining the apples of her cheeks bright red.

"Oh my God..." she hissed, her breath escaping her at once, and causing her to sag a little against Dean's chest. "I... I-I'm..."

The apology died on her lips and, instead, Jo broke away from Dean and lowered herself into the nearest chair, her gaze not once leaving Mary's now bloodied and bruised face. Jo winced as the realisation that she had beat on her boyfriend's mother hit her harder than any blow the hunter herself had delivered.

Dean gestured feebly to Jo and smiled up at his mother. "Mom, this is uh... this is my girlfriend, Jo."

Casting a slightly analytical gaze down at the blushing young woman, Mary smiled and nodded her head.

"We've met," she stated, earning a chuckle from her son and a wince from his girlfriend.  
>"Girlfriend..." Mary repeated in awe, shaking her head as she thought back to the toddler she had only just left behind, who was now somehow standing before her as a man. "Where... and... <em>when<em> am I?"

She took a seat at the table as Sam and Dean did likewise, and the latter placed his hand in the centre of Jo's back.  
>Sam shook off his melancholy thoughts and he cleared his throat as he prepared to reply, "Harvelle's Roadhouse... Nebraska."<br>"Nebraska?" Mary repeated, suddenly turning to regard her elder son as he interrupted.  
>"September 30th, 2011," Dean supplied, watching as Mary's face paled considerably.<br>"2011?" her voice was little more than a whisper, and she pressed her hand to her forehead to try to stem the headache that was brewing.  
>"Do you have any idea who did this? Who brought you here?" Dean asked, frowning as he suddenly noted that his mother's eyes were leveled on Jo.<p>

An incredulous laugh escaped Mary's lips, and she shook her head as she regarded Jo in evident disbelief, "Harvelle? As in _Bill_ Harvelle?"  
>Jo glanced up sharply and nodded, her eyes wide with uncertainty, although nothing about Mary's countenance was remotely threatening. In fact there was an inherent softness and kindness in the woman's undeniably pretty face. Her maternal pride and obvious love for her two sons was more than visible in her eyes, and Jo found herself smiling despite her embarrassment.<p>

"You knew my Dad?" Jo asked softly, thrilled to have found a link to the man she only now vaguely remembered.

Mary bobbed her head, a smile tugging at her lips as she recalled the evening she and John had spent only the previous weekend with Bill and his new fiancé, Ellen. Unable to contain an incredulous laugh, Mary widened her eyes, "You're Bill and Ellen's daughter?"

Jo's response died on her lips as she saw Mary's gaze come to rest upon the diamond band on her left hand - the ring that had once belonged to her.

"We always thought Dad didn't meet the Harvelles until he started hunting," Sam observed, glancing from Dean to Jo and back again in order to gauge how this new piece of information had affected them. Jo seemed to be staring at Mary, her mouth slightly open in disbelief, and her bloody nose forgotten.

Managing to tear her gaze away from the eternity band, Mary shook her head, eyes sparkling as she replied, "Oh no, Bill's been a good friend of mine since we were kids. Our parents knew each other- they lived in Lawrence for a while until his mother was killed, and they moved away to settle in Nebraska. Bill's Dad got out of hunting then... guess he couldn't face it without Beth."

"Beth..." Dean repeated, a small smile flickering across his lips as he shot Jo a glance. She shrugged, an evident indication that she knew very little of her own father's heritage, more than likely given his premature death when she had been nothing more than a child.

"We just spent last weekend with Bill and Ellen," Mary continued, frowning as she looked to Jo and added, "You said 'knew'? I '_knew'_ your Dad... he's... he's okay, right?"

Jo stared down at her hands and slowly shook her head, as Dean shot her a decidedly uncomfortable look.

"My Dad died when I was a kid. I don't really remember him. And my Mom... she passed last year. Hellhounds," Jo said bitterly, negating to mention the details of her father's untimely demise.  
>Mary's eyes dropped to her lap and, as she lifted her gaze, she hesitantly reached out a hand and placed it atop of Jo's, "I'm sorry. I lost both my parents too, you know?"<br>Jo nodded, exchanging a watery smile with the woman who was to all intents and purposes, potentially her future mother in-law.

"Uh, Mom... Mary... how do you remember who we are?" Dean interjected, wondering just how Mary's knowledge of them and her memories of their previous encounters seemed strangely intact, even though Michael had vowed to wipe both her and John's minds.

Mary shrugged and bit down on her bottom lip as she contemplated the question. Indeed, she seemed to recall every last detail of her previous meeting with her sons, including the fact that her own death was set to occur just six months after Sam's birth. Mary pushed the thought aside and wrapped her arms around herself in order to derive some comfort.

"I don't know, I- I was just standing there, you were watching a movie... _The Wizard of Oz_," she smiled weakly at the irony, "and then, there was a man..."

"A man?" Sam repeated, growing more and more suspicious of just who, or what, had propelled their mother some twenty eight years into the future.  
>"You remember what he looked like?" Dean pressed, racking his brains to think of some creature, entity or demonic force capable of such a feat.<p>

Mary wrinkled her nose and tossed her head, "His face is kind of... fuzzy..."

Dean nodded and exchanged a wary glance with Sam, who appeared lost in thought over some matter or other.

"Well, whoever it was, we know they're not interested in Dean," Jo observed, continuing as Dean arched a questioning eyebrow in her direction. "You're still here and so are we for that matter. If you... little you- had been harmed, then I'm guessing it would have had a knock on effect on history."

Mary breathed an audible sigh of relief, nodding her agreement as she looked towards Dean, unable to contain the stirrings of a smile. Indeed, the little boy she had left back home in Kansas would grow into a fine man whom both she and John could be immensely proud of.

"Still, we need to get you back and fast," Sam added, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "before any of that changes or y'know, little Dean sticks his finger in a socket or something."

"I do remember one thing though," Mary's soft voice rang out clearly, causing Sam to start a little. She laid a soft hand on his forearm and her accompanying smile to the gesture was apologetic and reassuring. Sam blinked in surprise, feeling the hot tears spring forth to his own eyes as he regarded his mother- something he had only been privileged enough to do a handful of times in his adult life.

"He said... 'don't be afraid'..." Mary said, seeming to be musing aloud, "and then he mentioned 'the other Mary'."

"The other Mary?" Jo repeated, clearly bemused. She replaced the now bloodied dish towel to the table, noting with relief that the bleeding had ceased fairly rapidly, and a tentative examination of her nose appeared to indicate that it was not broken.

Dean groaned incredulously as he found one particular name from their past standing out against all others. Although he wondered how likely the probability indeed was, he decided to voice his suspicions anyway.

"_The other Mary_? The 'do not be afraid' crap? It's Gabriel..." he stated, slamming his hands down in exasperation on the table top, causing all around him to jump, "son of a b..."

He suddenly paused as he noted Mary was now staring at him, arms folded across her chest as she arched a disdainful eyebrow.  
>"Okay, but he's dead, so how..." Sam began, glancing across at Jo as she murmured under her breath.<br>"And why..." she added gravelly, releasing a worried sigh that Dean attempted to stem with a reassuring squeeze to her leg.  
>"Hey, I know I wasn't always the guy's biggest fan, but... he was kind of on our side. Why should we believe that's changed now? If he's done this, maybe it wasn't necessarily for a bad reason?" Sam argued.<br>"Sam's the optimist out of the two of us," Dean supplied, smirking up at his mother and nodding sarcastically toward his sibling.

Mary smiled, though the sadness and regret in her demeanor was evident as she replied gently, "So were you, once."

Dean shrugged off her words, afraid that if he allowed them to wrap around him, he would be subject to a sudden and unwelcome exhibition of emotion.

"But like I said," Sam continued on, casting an irate glance at his brother that warned against further interruption, "the guy's dead. It's not possible."

"I think we should give Bobby a call," Jo said, looking towards Dean for approval. He appeared to hesitate and then slowly shook his head in order to dismiss the idea.

"I don't know. I mean, how carefully do we need to tread here so we don't screw up our own timeline?" Dean inquired, wrinkling his nose and forehead as he attempted to contemplate this.

"Well, we know little Dean is safe for now," Sam answered, "we just have to make sure Mom stays safe too. I guess the fewer amount of people who know she's here, the better. We have to figure out a way to send her back as soon as possible."

"Wait," Jo interjected, holding a hand out towards Sam and nibbling on her bottom lip in a thoughtful gesture, "if this really was Gabriel, and I guess we have to at least be dealing with an angel to be able to bend time... then, he's not going to allow us to send your Mom back until he's achieved whatever it was he wanted."

Mary nodded her agreement, flashing Jo a smile that was equal parts impressed and embarrassed. It appeared that she had yet to recover from the fact that upon her arrival, she had spent the better part of ten minutes allowing her fist to become acquainted with the face of her son's girlfriend, or whatever she indeed was to Dean. The ring the young Harvelle wore on the finger of her left hand had not escaped Mary's notice, and she had recognised it immediately as the eternity band that John had bought for her. With the memories that Michael had stolen from her now restored, Mary was all too acutely aware that the next few years would bring about her death, and so she only could assume that Jo meant a great deal to Dean.

"I say we keep Bobby out of this," Sam agreed, "and make sure Mom lays low until we've figured this out. In the meantime, Dean, why don't you see if you can call Cas?"

Dean made a noise low in his throat that sounded suspiciously rude, and Mary shot him a look that he elected to ignore. She had little idea as to who this Cas was, but it seemed apparent that he had upset Dean to some degree.

"I guess, but the last time I called him down for a little powwow, dude disappeared on me," Dean replied, mentally berating himself for the slip up as Jo glanced at him sharply. Dean and Castiel had not spoken since he and Jo had set out on their vacation a few weeks before. After ignoring Dean's frantic calls following Meg's supposed revelation about Jo's death, Cas had finally appeared to Dean only long enough to dispel the rumour, and then drop off the radar once more. Since that morning, Dean had heard nothing from the angel, and was beginning to grow suspicious as to the truth behind his previous assurances. The more time that passed with his absence, the more Dean became convinced that Castiel was indeed avoiding him and his troublesome questions.

Standing from the table, Dean smiled at his mother and simultaneously placed his hand on Jo's shoulder, a mischievous smile in place as he prepared to depart, "You two play nicely. No throwing punches."  
>Groaning into her hands, Jo nodded in agreement, hearing rather than seeing the small chuckle that Mary released in reply.<p>

Dean paused and stared out in confusion at the immense truck that appeared to be pulling up at to the rear of the roadhouse.

"Delivery guys are early this morning," he observed, narrowing his eyes as he recalled the poorly concealed delight that had overcome the burly driver at having found Jo in her pyjamas the previous week. Clearly he now intended to make this early morning appearance a weekly event.  
>"Sammy, you wanna get that?" Dean instructed, leaving little room for argument from his younger sibling. Sam sighed, reading Dean's stony and territorial stance easily.<br>"Yeah," he obliged with a tight smile, before he made his way from the kitchen toward the delivery area out back.

Jo lifted her head from her hands in time to see Dean also depart and a sense of intense dread suddenly overcame her as she found herself alone with Mary.  
>"So..." Mary began, smiling to allay Jo's nervousness, which was aptly demonstrated by the tight line formed across her lips.<br>Jo's teeth grazed her bottom lip and she winced as she finally allowed her eyes to meet Mary's, "I'm so sorry..."

Mary waved the apology away with one hand, shaking her head and chuckling, "I did kind of drop in unannounced. I'd have been concerned if you hadn't punched my face repeatedly- really."

Jo consented to a genuine smile, amused by Mary's wit which reminded her a lot of Dean. As she studied the woman, she found herself deliberately searching for the similarities between her boyfriend and his absent mother.

"Wow, this ranks right up there in the top most awkward moments of my life ever," Jo replied, rolling her eyes as Mary dissolved into laughter. Stooping down and grabbing the dish towel from the table, Jo began to sweep the shards of broken coffee pot together whilst dabbing at the spilled coffee.

"Here, let me help," Mary offered, crouching down and beginning to collect the glass into a pile whilst Jo mopped at the now cold coffee.

"Thanks," Jo mumbled, her hair falling across her face as she worked, and obscuring her features from view. However, she still felt Mary's eyes keenly upon her, and Jo chewed on her bottom lip as she worked.

"He seems happier than last time," Mary observed, her voice suddenly shattering the uncomfortable silence that had existed between the two women. Jo's head whipped up and she yelped as it connected with the top of the table, and the dish rag fell from her hands.

"You uh... you remember that?" Jo asked. Thanks to Dean, she already knew much of the story of how Sam and Dean had journeyed to the past and encountered their young, vibrant and seemingly kick-ass mother.

Mary shrugged, sighing sadly as she thought about how both her sons had pleaded with her to ensure they would not exist; that they would not be doomed to live the life they had endured since her death.

"I guess I do now," she nodded, "he told me... I needed to remember."

She frowned, trying to recall further details of her meeting with the stranger in her home, but found her memory failing her in that regard.  
>"Jo... can I ask you something?" Mary began tentatively, blinking as tears began to pool in her eyes and she wiped at them with the back of her sleeve.<br>"Uh, yeah... sure," Jo nodded, her eyes widening expectantly as she watched Mary struggle internally with her question.  
>"What's my son like?"<p>

Jo felt her heart constrict. She closed her eyes momentarily and tried to think of how to possibly begin to describe Dean Winchester to the mother who could only now view the man in front of her as a stranger.

Jo leant back against the kitchen counter and mustered a smile, whilst she continued to drag the dish towel through her fingers.

"Dean? He's stubborn, tactless... he's pretty bad at handling his emotions..." Jo's smile widened as she thought about her boyfriend, and she caught Mary's slightly crestfallen expression before she continued in a more serious tone, "but he's loyal, determined, brave, caring..."

Jo looked up to hold Mary's gaze despite the blush she felt beginning to burn at her cheeks, as she added softly, "He's one of the good guys, and... I can't imagine a world without Dean Winchester in it."

"You love him," Mary stated, her gaze taking on an almost analytical quality as she surveyed Jo. The younger hunter wondered if in that moment, she was being appraised; measured and judged by the mother figure who had been absent for much of Dean's life, through no choice of her own. Mary had left behind a mere baby and yet here she was, faced with the image of the man he would become, and her desire for her son's happiness saw her stepping into foreign terrain. Jo thought that perhaps if Mary Winchester had lived, they would have gotten along well, united by not only their shared callings as hunters, but also by their mutual adoration of the same man.

"More than anything," Jo answered, her voice barely a whisper. She blinked rapidly, dispelling the moisture that had pooled at the corners of her eyes, and flung the dish towel into the sink.

"I bet Bill was really proud of you," said Mary, her tone sympathetic and her smile encouraging as she returned to her seat at the table, and gestured for Jo to join her.

"W-what are they like?" Jo eventually stammered after the briefest of pauses, the full force of her curiousity turned upon Mary and shining through her features. "My Mom and Dad, I mean... what were they like back then?"

Mary laughed as her thoughts settled on the evening she and John had spent with Bill and Ellen only days before. It was hard to believe that now she sat before their grown daughter, whom Mary knew would not be satisfied with a mere cursory evaluation of her folks. Just as Dean and Sam had been deprived of their mother, Jo had never truly gotten to know her father, and the idea that Mary might be able to bring life to Bill's memory was gratifying.

"They're... crazy about each other," Mary replied, thinking about the playful banter and frequent bickering that had flowed between the couple, "you have your Momma's eyes... and your Daddy's smile."  
>"That's what my mom used to tell me too. I don't... I mean, I don't remember him. Just little things, you know; how he smelled, his voice..."<br>Mary nodded sadly, realising that most definitely Sam, and perhaps Dean also, would feel the same about her absence during their childhood.  
>"Dean remembers you, I mean, he talks about you..." Jo blurted out as if able to read Mary's thoughts, although she instantly berated herself as the smile fell from the woman's lips.<p>

"How about we fix breakfast?" Mary suggested, hopping from the chair and starting towards the refrigerator. Nodding without a word, Jo joined the woman by the counter as she began to remove cartons of eggs, flour, syrup, bacon, and milk, which she set aside before rolling up her sleeves. Jo arched an eyebrow, deciding not to protest against offering help, although ordinarily the extent of her breakfast capabilities ended with a few slices of buttered toast, and a fruit bowl.

Offering Jo a smile that indicated she harboured no grudge, Mary simply continued to beat eggs into a cup, and the two women worked side by side in a now companionable silence.

**x-x-x**

Pacing the wooden floorboards of the bar, Dean knotted his hands behind his head and glared in evident fury up through the ceiling at the heavens.  
>"Cas, I need to talk to you!" Dean barked, exchanging irritated glances with Sam who was leaning against the bar, his arms folded across his chest.<br>"Cas, come on... this is important, man!" Sam added, sighing and shaking his head as their pleas appeared to fall on deaf ears.  
>"Cas... Get your goddamn feathered ass down here!" Dean yelled, wincing as he added dubiously, "please?"<p>

A familiar ruffle of a weathered trenchcoat finally heralded the angel's arrival, and he stood before the two brothers, his expression as always wan.  
>"Where the hell have you been?" Dean demanded, glaring incredulously at Castiel.<br>"I was waiting for the 'magic' word," he informed the older Winchester, blinking as he watched Dean digest his words. Sam hid a poorly concealed snort of laughter behind his fist, and Dean glowered, one eyebrow arched.  
>"That a joke? You wanna be all 'SNL' angel now or something?" Dean shrugged, watching as Cas appeared baffled by the latter half of his comment.<p>

"I know not of this _SNL_... but I was indeed making a joke"  
>"It wasn't funny," Dean retorted, holding up a finger in warning for Cas not to continue on with the tangent regarding humor and the joke telling etiquette that he assumed was pending.<br>Castiel dug his hands in his pockets and simply blinked once in apparent disdain for his audience, "I thought it possessed a certain element of humor."  
>"Alright... enough," Dean shook his head, suddenly pausing as he stopped and began to sniff hurriedly at the air.<p>

"You smell bacon?" he frowned, glancing up hopefully at Sam. Cocking his head, Sam inhaled a deep breath, and nodded as his stomach released an audible grumble.

"I am glad you called," Castiel said grimly, affixing his attention upon Dean. "I have news. You are all in danger."

"Couple of pages ahead of you there, Cas," Dean replied, a derisive snort dying on his lips as Castiel glared at him through narrowed eyes. The angel was clearly wearing thin on patience, and his usual ability to tolerate any and all of Dean's quips appeared to be absent. Dean blinked in surprise and folded his arms across his chest as he waited for the angel to clarify the meaning behind his words.

"Someone has sought to alter the course of time," Cas explained, glancing at Sam in order to encompass him in the conversation also. "The outcome of this could affect not only us, but the entire world."

"Like I said..." Dean began, frowning as Castiel raised a single hand to command silence.

"It is imperative that we find out who has done this, and to what ends," Castiel continued, seeming oblivious to the knowing look that passed between the brothers. "We need to discover what exactly has been changed and put it right immediately or reality as you know it now will cease to exist."

"Geez, Cas," Dean exclaimed in a rush of breath, shaking his head and massaging the back of his neck with his palm as he struggled to find the words to tell the angel that they were already able to answer half of those questions. However, Dean did not get that far as Mary chose that moment to wander into the bar, her hair pulled back by her barrettes, and an apron affixed around her. The sight brought a smile immediately to Dean's features, and Sam continued to gaze misty-eyed at their mother, still grappling with her presence.

"Anyone hungry? We made breakfast," Mary inquired brightly, beaming at the three men. Sam and Dean exchanged troubled glances, and the smile upon Mary's face faltered.

His mouth set in a grim line, Castiel simply stared at Mary Winchester and prayed that it was not already too late.


	20. Chapter 20

_**Episode 7 – Part 2**_

'_**Mary's Boys'**_

**x-x-x**

It had bothered Mary more than Castiel could comprehend that he had refused her offers of breakfast or coffee. Instead, the angel sat around the kitchen table in silence, watching as Sam and Dean tucked into plates piled high with pancakes, syrup, bacon, sausages, and eggs. The food was far superior to any attempts that Jo, Dean or Sam had made themselves and, as an added bonus in Jo's book, Mary had left the kitchen in an arguably cleaner state. The two women seemed to have settled into a comfortable companionship, despite their shaky start, and chatted quietly at intervals as the boys ate.

Castiel's eyes never wandered far from the Winchester matriarch as she puttered somewhat nervously around the kitchen, refilling coffee mugs and wiping down already gleaming countertops. Her apparent unease at Cas' presence was easy to understand, given the fact that it had already been assumed that an angel was responsible for her unceremonious deposition in the future. Mary's last encounter with celestial beings had hardly been a peaceful one, and so Castiel did all he could to allay her fears and appear as non-threatening as possible.

"We must talk soon." Cas shot Dean a pointed look, his lip curling somewhat as he watched the hunter shovel a forkful of sausage into his mouth. It had always puzzled the angel as to how humans could stand to devour hunks of charred animal flesh with such gusto and yet proclaim perfect civility. It was true that God had placed animals on earth to ensure the survival of humanity, but Cas presumed that hardly extended to butchering and then eating them. Wisely, the angel chose to keep his thoughts on such matters to himself, reasoning that he was hardly privy to God's intentions, now more so than ever.

"This is... really good..." Dean muttered through chewed eggs and bacon, shooting Mary a look that bordered on devotion, and pointedly ignoring Cas' latest plea.

Mary smiled at the compliment, her expression brightening only momentarily as she felt the weight of Castiel's gaze upon her.

Taking a decisive bite out of a freshly buttered piece of toast, Jo sat down beside Dean and leveled a pointed glare on Cas. Though they were uncertain as to how and why Mary Winchester had ended up there with them, it had provided a brief and yet important reunion between she and her two boys. If anything positive were to come from the meddling forces, it would be the forging of another cherished memory of their mother.

Mary took a seat beside Sam, who still seemed reluctant to tear his gaze from her, and he smiled widely as she laced her hands around a steaming mug of coffee and stared in obvious wonderment at her children.

"So... now what?" she asked uncertainly, unnerved by the stoic expression of the angel.  
>"We must find out who sent you here," Castiel stated, "and why. I fear their motives for doing so were perhaps... misguided at the very least."<br>"It has to be an angel, right?" Sam checked, shrugging as he added, "demons can't time travel."  
>Dean nodded in agreement, gesturing toward Castiel with his fork, "Yep. Gotta be one of your boys."<p>

"We cannot automatically assume that the one who did this is on the side of good," Cas warned, his brows drawing together. Dean let out a derisive snort and tossed his head.

"Who said anything about angels being the good guys?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes and stabbing his fork in Cas' direction, causing the angel to start a little. "Bunch of pompous, self-serving asswipes from what we've seen of 'em... no offence."

"None taken," Cas answered glibly, shaking off Dean's insults easily in order to focus on the conundrum at hand. He watched Mary carefully for the slightest reaction as he probed, "Did he say or do anything that would lead you to believe he was an angel?"

Before Mary could answer, her mouth open in readiness, Dean cut in, seeming to leap to the defence of his mother where it was entirely unnecessary.

"Mentioned the 'other Mary'," Dean revealed, arching a pointed brow before shoveling another forkful into his mouth. He chewed noisily, earning an amused smile from Jo and a disgruntled glare from Sam, who had endured enough of his brother's poor table manners over the years not to find them remotely endearing.

"Could you maybe chew with your mouth closed?" Sam demanded, wrinkling his nose as he watched Dean begin to load more food onto his fork before he had even finished swallowing. Dean shot his brother a look; one that clearly communicated his lack of intent to comply.

"Don't be such a jerk," Dean stated, emphasising the insult and succeeding in sending pieces of egg and sausage flying in Sam's direction.

"Well if you could just quit eating like a toddler then maybe I wouldn't have to bitch at you all the time," Sam sniped, glaring through narrowed eyes at Dean over the rim of his coffee cup. As Dean opened his mouth to respond, a commanding voice cut clearly through the impending raucous.

"Boys," Mary warned in the tone that mothers reserved for bad report cards, chores gone undone, and sibling rivalries. She glanced at each of the men in turn, noting how they each cast their eyes downward and mumbled apologies into their breakfasts. Her smile was back in place seconds later, all clearly forgiven, and Dean continued eating, this time with his lips sealed firmly together.

"The other Mary?" Cas interrupted, frustration creeping into his tone as impatience clearly got the better of him. "That would imply..."

"Gabriel," Dean finished, waiting until he had swallowed before interjecting and derailing the angel's train of thoughts. "But that's impossible, right? I mean, the dude's dead."

"Perhaps," Cas allowed, his eyes drifting rather diplomatically to the tabletop as he avoided Dean's question.

"Wait, he's not dead?" Jo demanded, clearly having grown confused now by the pace of the conversation regarding an angel she had never even encountered before. Her knowledge of Gabriel and his trickster counterpart was strictly limited to what little Sam and Dean had told her, and nothing had seemed important enough to bother working to retain. Now, however, she wished she had listened that little bit harder.

"Gabriel is very much dead," Castiel replied, awarding Jo a patient look, the way in which a kindergarten teacher may smile at a particularly slow student. Jo bristled and slurped down a mouthful of coffee, resisting the urge to kick the angel, who was well within striking distance underneath the table.

Shaking off her disdain, Jo busied herself with swiping a piece of bacon from Dean's plate. Dean feigned annoyance at the gesture, yet he could not help the smirk that twitched at his lips as she merely shrugged and took another bite.  
>"Caring is sharing," she stated, pausing as Dean reached out to brush his thumb across the corner of her lip to gently wipe away a crumb.<p>

Castiel sighed in evident exasperation at their apparent lack of motivation or direction, and before either of the hunters could speak, he suddenly appeared beside Mary, a grave expression affixed upon his face.

"We must return things to the way they were," he explained, reaching out toward the young woman before Sam or Dean had a chance to react.  
>Pressing his fingertips to Mary's forehead, Cas closed his eyes against the sudden clamour of voices.<br>"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dean yelled, standing and swatting the angel's hand from a startled Mary's face.

"Gees Cas," Sam snapped, also rising from his seat and affixing Castiel with an irritated glare. "Don't we even get a chance to say goodbye?"

"Time is of the essence here," Castiel stated gravely and unapologetically, cocking his head as he observed the outraged brothers, and still silent Mary.

"I don't give a rat's ass," snarled Dean, taking a step forwards and around his chair, positioning himself between the angel and his mother. "You're going to shut your pie hole for five minutes whilst we say goodbye to our Mom."

Cas stared at Dean, their gazes meeting levelly, before he reluctantly bobbed his head in agreement.

"Of course," the angel answered, folding his arms across his chest as he added, "I... apologise for my haste."

Mary cleared her throat and stood hesitantly, a little surprised by her apparently imminent departure. Whilst her concerns lay with the infant Dean she now worried had been left alone some thirty years in the past, the chance to reconnect and, in Sam's case, simply connect with her children had been something to cherish. Leaving them, never knowing the people they had become, was as tragic to her as her own death.

"I... I don't even know what to call you," Dean floundered, taking a slow, deep breath and exhaling as he regarded his mother intently.  
>Mary nodded in understanding, managing a weak smile as she lifted her hand to his cheek and felt her heart constrict at the resulting expression of loss that clouded his features.<br>"How about Mom?" she offered uncertainly, her eyes pricking with tears as his jaw tensed. Jo was at his side in an instant, something which did not go unnoticed by Mary. She leaned forwards and enveloped her son in an embrace, resting her cheek against his chest and breathing in the residual scent of the leather jacket that she recognised as belonging to John in her time.

"You all take care of each other now, you hear?" Mary warned, struggling to mask the sorrowful tinge she was aware had crept into her tone. Withdrawing from Dean's embrace, Mary stepped to the side only to be engulfed in Sam's arms. She found herself yanked into his chest, both of his enormous, strong arms encircling her back and crushing her small body to him. Mary choked out a strangled breath before Sam realised that his grip on her had become smothering.

"I..." Sam began, trailing off as his emotions threatened to get the better of him, and every potential goodbye he had been poised to utter failed him. Instead, Sam fell silent, simply gazing into Mary's eyes with a clear sense of wonder etched across his features. Smiling, Mary extended her hand and brushed her fingertips across Sam's face.

"Remember, I'll always love you, boys," Mary whispered, suddenly turning to Castiel as he appeared before her, his expression characteristically grave. Dean drew himself up to his full height, his front teeth sinking into his bottom lip and his hand searching for Jo's as he attempted to steady himself. Turning on his heel, Sam stormed out of the kitchen, allowing the door to swing violently in his wake. Mary afforded a worried glance at the door, but Dean allayed her fears with a simple smile that promised he would take care of his brother as he always had in her absence.

"It is time," Cas murmured, reaching towards the woman and gently tapping his index finger against her forehead.

Mary waited for the familiar whoosh of time and space passing in a blur around her; and yet neither of those things ever came.

Dean's brow furrowed, and he and Jo exchanged confused glances.

"This is... strange," Castiel stammered, confusion etched across his features as he drew back and regarded Mary with ill-placed suspicion.  
>"What?" she asked, her eyes widening as she glanced up at the angel, who quickly retracted his hand and turned to regard her older son.<br>"What just happened?" Dean demanded, confused as to why his mother was still standing before them.

Castiel shrugged, jamming his hands in his pockets, "It appears that I cannot send her back."  
>"You mean I can't get back?" Mary demanded, her mind reeling as she began to hurriedly calculate the consequences of her absence.<p>

"But if you can't send her back..." Jo began, trailing off as she appeared to be contemplating the same thoughts as Mary.  
>"Well if you can't send her home, who can?" Dean asked, his eyes flashing with impatience. As much as he would have liked to spend time with his mother, he knew the importance of maintaining the previous time line.<p>

"I do not know," Cas answered, entirely apologetic as he eyed the three very nervous hunters in turn. Mary swallowed hard before sinking down into a chair, her face suddenly ashen as she contemplated what trouble her toddler son could be getting into at home in the absence of any supervising presence.

"But... Dean..." she whispered, her expression rapidly descending into panic. Cas shook his head, staring directly at the woman as he formulated his reply.

"I do not believe any harm will be allowed to come to Dean," he replied, an almost thoughtful expression present upon his face. "If it is indeed Gabriel that has... displaced you... then perhaps only he can undo what has been done."

"You said the guy was dead," Dean spat, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he began to pace the kitchen, clearly disturbed by the turn of events. The morning had already adopted a somewhat surreal atmosphere, and Dean was uncertain as to how many more surprises he could take.

"And I believe he is," Cas said patiently, taking a deep breath before he continued, "the rules of time do not apply to angels in the same way that they do to humans. Where you could travel back to last week and have coffee with that earlier version of yourself, the same is not true for us."

"So there's like... only one of you... like, ever?" Jo queried, screwing up her nose as she contemplated Cas' garbled and confusing explanation. The angel shot her an impatient look, and then a brief nod.

"Yes," he said curtly, returning his attentions to Dean, who he perceived to be more expert on such matters as time travel and the angels who successfully navigated through it. "We are free to move through time, forwards or backwards as our work requires. However, it is possible to leave a sort of... echo... of ourselves in a particular place or situation, should the need arise."

"An echo?" Dean repeated, spitting the word out as though it left a vile taste on his tongue. "What the hell does that mean?"

Cas sighed, any final shred of patience dissipating at Dean's clipped tone, "Put simply- a watered down version of one's self. It would possess a degree of angelic power, all memories, and motivations. They were usually created to aid some occurrence pivotal to history that an angel feared he may not be there to orchestrate."

"This doesn't make a lick of damn sense," Dean grumbled, reaching for his coffee and taking a long swig. As the now cold, bitter liquid assailed the back of his throat, Dean found himself longing for an uncharacteristic mid-afternoon Irish twist to his beverage.

"Before he died, Gabriel perhaps left an echo of himself in your mother's time with instruction to wait for the correct moment to send her forwards," Cas answered. "Presumably, he instilled the echo with enough power to also send her home."

"Presumably?" Mary squeaked, her mouth dropping open as she contemplated the angel's words, which lacked the distinct ring of certainty she had hoped for.

"That is, if your return to the past was ever a part of his master plan," Castiel said, shifting his weight in discomfort, "I do not have the power to interfere with the work of even the echo of an arc angel. We can only now attempt to figure out what purpose Gabriel had hoped to serve by doing this."

"Oh, yeah, should be real easy," Dean drawled, slamming his now empty mug down on the table, "since he was a twisted, psychotic maniac and all."

"Where would we even start?" Jo demanded, ignoring Dean's mood for the moment and focusing her attention upon Cas, who seemed more than a little out of his comfort zone. The angel was loathe to admit it, but he had only once before learned of an angelic echo being used in order to guide history, and the fact that Gabriel had resorted to such mammoth efforts left him more than a little uneasy.

Castiel shook his head, eyeing first Jo and then Mary in turn before he speculated, "If Gabriel has done this, there is a purpose to you being here; one I can only assume concerns Dean and Sam."  
>"Gabriel?" Mary checked, still processing the information that seemed entirely incredulous, "as in... Mary, Joseph and a stable in Bethlehem, Gabriel?"<br>"Yes," Castiel replied shortly, obviously more concerned with seeking out his motives, rather than adding to his infamy.

"But what could he possibly want with my children?" Mary pressed, her eyes wide in fear. Her few interactions with angels had not proven to be positive experiences, and the idea that one so powerful had taken an interest in the lives of her sons made her more than a little wary.  
>"Dean and Sam are important to the ongoing battle between good and evil. The heavens have a vested interest in their wellbeing, " Castiel stated elusively. Turning briefly to Jo, the angel arched a dark eyebrow, "I believe this may therefore also concern you, Joanna."<br>"Me?" Jo demanded, her voice a surprised squeak. She leaned back on the balls of her feet as she folded her arms across her chest in a clearly suspicious gesture.

"Your role as a hunter makes you an important ally, and..." he paused, reluctant to reveal his knowledge of her future and thus selecting his words carefully. "If Gabriel assumed that your relationship with Dean is to be enduring, it is also possible he assumed that future generations of hunters would be a product of this union."

"But when Sam and Dean met this guy, we weren't... I mean... I was..." Jo stammered, looking from Dean to Cas and then back again in order to gauge her boyfriend's reaction to the angel's suggestion. Much to Jo's surprise, Dean seemed unperturbed by the idea of a long term future with Jo, and all that implied.

Jo finished lamely, "Gabriel never even knew I existed."

"Some things are indeed fated," Cas answered cryptically, "the important events in a life are pre-written, and most angels, especially an arc angel, are privy to that information."

"Great, that's real enlightening," Dean retorted sardonically, rolling his eyes as he began to pace the floor once again as a result of the nervous energy coiled in his muscles. "Any idea how exactly we work out what the dude was getting at?"

Castiel shrugged, and Dean's eyebrows shot up in immediate annoyance at the casual gesture.

"No," he replied, tone level and expression likewise, "but whatever it is, we only have a limited time in which to do so. Once an echo activates the power invested in them, they have only a short time to carry out their instructed tasks, before they simply cease to be."

"Cease to be?" Dean repeated, irritation and fury mounting by the second.

"Of course," said Cas, shooting Dean a look that implied as much should have been obvious. "If you stood at the mouth of a cave and yelled your own name, would the echo not eventually fade away?"

"Smart ass..." Dean growled through clenched teeth.

"I must return to heaven to ascertain what little information I can about these events," Castiel stated, leaving no room for arguments or questions as he promptly disappeared from the kitchen with the familiar rustling of wings and the tails of his trench coat resounding.  
>"Cas?" Dean yelled, glancing down at Jo as she called out angrily after the angel at almost the exact same moment.<br>"Son of a..." Dean muttered, suddenly clearing his throat as he realised his mother was sitting only feet away from him.

"Now what?" Jo sighed, planting her hands on her hips as the couple peered back at each other.  
>"I got no clue," Dean shook his head, rubbing his hand over his face. Jo watched him closely as his gaze rested upon Mary, and she could not help but note the deep concern that now weighted on his features.<p>

Reaching out, Jo tangled her fingers through his, smiling as she felt him squeeze her hand in response.  
>"Alright, so... if Gabriel wants you here... and he's on our side," Dean began uncertainly, "it must be something he wants us to know, right? Something only you could tell us."<br>"I have no idea," Mary floundered, shaking her head as she added, "you're only a baby in my world, Dean... I..."  
>Jo frowned, reconsidering Castiel's earlier words, "What if it's not about Dean... what if it's bigger than that?"<p>

"I don't know what to say," Mary replied, desperation and uncharacteristic helplessness colouring her tone. "I wish I knew."

"It's okay, Mom," Dean said gently, reaching across and cupping Mary's hand with his own. She glanced down at their entwined fingers before her gaze met Dean's and she forced a wan smile.

"It's not," Mary answered, shaking her head and pushing Dean's hand away. "We need answers... answers that I should have and..."

"We'll work it out," Jo interjected, glancing towards the door pointedly in the direction that Sam had disappeared earlier. Nodding, Dean offered Mary one more encouraging smile, before hooking his thumbs in the direction of the doorway, and vanishing in search of his brother.

**x-x-x**

The digital clock on the nightstand flashed impatiently in the darkness, marking each passing minute that gradually beckoned the dawn closer.

Dean sighed, cursing his inability to fall asleep, and peered up listlessly at the ceiling as he wrapped his arms a little bit tighter around the woman beside him. Shooting a decisive glance over toward the clock one final time, he rubbed his hand across Jo's back and pressed a kiss against her temple.

Dean gently eased her from atop his chest and pulled the covers up over Jo's sleeping form as he slid from the bed in a move that he performed with well practiced ease over the years. This time however, he paused to caress his companion's cheek, and bent his head to whisper in her ear.  
>"Shhh, it's okay sweetheart... I'll be right back," he assured her softly, brushing his lips across her cheek as he watched her eyes flicker closed once again.<p>

Dean padded into the darkened hall, not bothering to flick the light switch for fear of waking either Sam or their mother, who was sleeping in the guest bedroom down the hall. Feeling his way along the passage with both hands, Dean finally reached the staircase and managed to negotiate it safely, his bare feet touching down on the floorboards at the bottom with a telltale creak of yielding wood.

Letting out a breath he had not realised he was holding, Dean proceeded towards the kitchen with slightly less caution. He flicked on the light and let out a quiet yelp as he took in the figure in a white night gown hunkered over the table, nursing a glass of water and chewing thoughtfully on their fingernails.

"Jesus... gees," Dean recovered lamely, offering his mother a pained smile and slapping one fist to his chest as though to restart his own heart. Mary grinned, simply shrugging instead of offering an apology, and waited for Dean to source his own glass of water and join her around the table before she spoke.

"Couldn't sleep either?" she queried, resisting the urge to reach across and brush away the lock of hair that had fallen across Dean's forehead. She had been forced to remind herself throughout the day that she was virtually unknown to either of her sons and, as much as it pained her to consider it, she was uncertain that either of the boys would be comfortable with a display of overt familiarity. Mary had decided to play it safe, maintaining a good distance, speaking mainly when spoken to, and attempting to tamp back just a degree of the excitement that radiated from her whenever she took in the sight of her grown children.

Dean shrugged, yawning as he rubbed his hand over his face and dropped down into the seat opposite her.  
>"Guess not," he eyed her with distinct awe, considering all the occasions growing up when he had wished for this very moment. It was both surreal and heartbreaking, because he knew their time together was fleeting, and yet he could not help but hope for more.<br>"I can make cocoa?" Mary offered, smiling as a grin overcame Dean's face.  
>"With marshmallows?" Dean enthused, watching as she bobbed her head.<p>

"But... just the white ones," Mary threw the comment over her shoulder, missing the suddenly grief stricken expression that overcame Dean's features.  
>"Yeah," Dean said hoarsely, feeling a lump form rapidly in his throat as he swallowed and tried to quell the tears pricking at his eyes. Memories of Mary Winchester were few and far between and, with their father's reluctance to so much as speak their mother's name aloud, so much had slipped Dean's mind over the years. Now, however, he recalled with startling clarity the Winter afternoons upon which they would share a hot chocolate around the kitchen table, with a generous topping of whipped cream and miniature marshmallows. Dean, ever the contrary child, had always insisted that Mary pick out the pink marshmallows; whilst his mother had doubtlessly gone to her grave believing it was because Dean disliked the taste, he was chagrined to now admit that his insistence had been based on nothing more than the fact that pink was most definitely for girls.<p>

"Do you think Castiel will be back tomorrow?" Mary inquired as she set about warming a pan of milk on the stove, and began to search the cupboards for the tin of cocoa powder. Transfixed by her every move, Dean offered no help.

"I... maybe... Cas is... a little unpredictable," Dean finished, as diplomatically as possible. Mary nodded, her back still turned, and let out a small cry of triumph as her searching of the cupboards yielded a bag of tiny marshmallows.

"Is Jo awake? Should I make her a cup?" Mary asked, smiling as she watched a blush creep up Dean's cheeks.  
>"She's out like a light," Dean shook his head, vaguely embarrassed that his mother was aware he shared a bed with his girlfriend.<p>

Mary mouthed a silent 'oh' and nodded, busying herself with boiling the milk on the stove. Enjoying her son's blushes more than she would like to admit, Mary bit back a chuckle and arched an eyebrow as she peered down into the warm steam that begin to waft from the saucepan.

"I like her," she stated, turning to regard Dean, who seemed momentarily taken aback by her statement. He had never once imagined he would be discussing his love life with his mother, believing that rite of passage to have been lost to him long ago.  
>"Uh... well, good, I... Sam kind of figured you would," he said with a grin, remembering how his brother had compared the two blonde hunters shortly before he had suggested that Dean gift to Jo an item of Mary's jewellery.<p>

"Sam did?" Mary asked, and her face was illuminated by the brightest smile as she was struck by the hope that her youngest son somehow had retained some faint memory of her. Of course she knew that was unlikely given that he had been little more than an infant when she had been killed, but the idea that he nevertheless understood her brought a surge of happiness to her heart.

"Yeah, Sam's..." Dean paused, on the verge of one of those chick flick moments he despised, poised to sing Sam's praises to their mother and label him 'a good guy'. With a grin, Dean simply finished, "You should be real proud of him."

"I'm proud of you both, Dean," Mary answered without a moment's pause, her eyes trained keenly upon Dean's face even as he inclined his chin towards the floor and refused to raise his gaze.

"Well, I'm probably a little more like Dad than you'd like," Dean admitted, rubbing at the nape of his neck as he contemplated his own tendencies towards hot-headedness, and the stubborn streak a mile wide he had inherited from John Winchester.

"I love John," Mary stated, a note of challenging to her tone now, "if you're like him, them you can only be a great man, and I feel lucky to call you my son."

Dean smiled through the sudden watery haze that invaded his vision, gratefully accepting the mug of hot chocolate topped with cream and mini marshmallows that Mary slid across the table towards him.

"How did..." Dean began, pausing with an almost self-conscious shrug of his shoulders before he continued, "how did you guys meet?"

Mary lowered herself down into the chair opposite him and cocked her head as she asked hesitantly, "Your Dad never..."  
>Dean shook his head and stared down at the table top. After his wife's death, John had been so consumed with grief that sharing memories or anecdotes about the past had never been something he had been capable of. As such, they knew very little of their parent's early life together, or of their respective families.<p>

"No, he..." Dean stammered, swallowing hard as he found the courage to raise his gaze and discovered a teary eyed Mary staring down at her hands, lost in thought.  
>Taking a deep, steadying breath, Mary mustered a smile for her son's benefit and began to relay the story of her first ever meeting with a young and arrogant John Winchester.<br>"It was uh... it was a little after your Grandma Carolyn died," Mary said uneasily, wondering how much or how little Dean knew of his family's hunting past.

"How'd she die?" Dean asked, having never heard his father so much as utter his mother's name throughout his childhood.  
>Mary took a slow sip of her cocoa and traced her fingertip along the rim of the mug, "A fire... but... but Jack, your grandfather, I guess he thought there was something... something..."<br>Dean frowned, suddenly realising the implication behind her story.

"Something supernatural?" he pressed, watching as his mother visibly squirmed at his line of questioning, "Mom?"  
>"Yeah," she nodded, smiling tightly, "everyone in town knew your Grandpa Samuel took care of that kind of thing, and... and... that's how I met John."<br>"Well, did they ever figure out what it was?" Dean asked, never having realised his grandparents had been associated with each other before his parents' meeting. This new information was unsettling, and instantly his mind began to reel with possibilities, all as terrible as each other.

Mary shrugged slightly, "If they did, I never got to hear about it. Our Dads were as thick as thieves for a while, but John never really believed all that stuff was real... he thought they were just two crazy old men, whiling away the hours with a few too many beers."

"Doesn't sound like the Dad I remember," Dean stated, his lip curling into a half grin and half grimace. Mary blinked rapidly, somewhat surprised by the strength of Dean's reaction.

"He was different back then, Dean," she murmured, "I wish you could see how he is with you... he dotes on you..."

"So, what changed between Jack and Samuel?" Dean interjected, unwilling to broach the subject of John Winchester's rather shaky parenting skills, "they fall out or something?"

"I don't really know," Mary answered, respecting Dean's wish to steer the conversation in another direction, "one day, Dad just stopped going round there. Said he'd done all he could to help the Winchesters, and the rest was up to them. When John and I started seeing each other he... well, he was furious."

"But nothing else... weird... happened... right?" Dean pressed, both eyebrows raised to secure her attention, "they got whatever it was?"  
>Mary nodded, shrugging her shoulders as an afterthought, "I guess, I mean... your Grandpa Jack never mentioned anything."<br>Dean nodded, staring down into the now puffed out and swollen marshmallows as they started to sink lower into the depths of the cocoa. For some reason, his mother's story had set his now well honed 'spidey senses' tingling, but he could not quite figure out the reason for his sudden discomfort.

Mary clasped her hands around her own mug, suddenly biting down on her bottom lip as the light reflected off of the diamond band on her left hand.  
>"You gave Jo my ring?" she half asked, half stated, watching as Dean sat up straighter in his chair and his mouth dropped open.<br>"Well, I... it was..." Dean floundered for a suitable reply, licking his lips as Mary offered him a warm smile and reached out to place her hand over his.

"It's okay, Dean," she murmured in response, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand. "I know you'll be happy together."

"It's not like... I mean, we're not getting..." Dean continued to stammer, and Mary cracked a wide grin, biting back a chuckle as she gave Dean's hand one last reassuring squeeze.

"Maybe not now, but one day," she said with such confidence that her son fell instantly quiet. "I see it in the way you look at each other, the way you talk to each other, the way you touch her hand or her face when you think no one else is looking."

Dean took a sip of cocoa, savouring the plumped marshmallow that slipped into his mouth to save himself the necessity of a reply.

"I couldn't ask for someone better for you, sweetheart," Mary continued, seeming to sense that Dean was not ready to begin speaking again, and reluctant to allow a silence to descend between them. "You just need to trust your own judgment. When things feel right, it's usually because they are."

Dean simply peered down at the table, scrutinising the knots in the wood as he tried to dampen down the surge of renewed grief their conversation was prompting. Having his mother back again, even for so short a time, was quickly reopening old wounds. Though he had never recovered from her loss, it was a pain he and Sam had learned to live with over the years. Now, with Mary Winchester sitting before him, Dean found himself mourning all that could and should have been in his life.  
>"Dean?"Mary prompted gently, curling her fingers around his wrist to gather his attention. "Why don't you go back to bed?"<br>She smiled at the sudden panic that flashed in his eyes as he glanced at her sharply, "I'll still be here in the morning... I promise."  
>Dean nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath as he closed his eyes to blink back tears, and he felt her hand land upon his cheek.<br>"Goodnight, baby," she said softly, her breath catching as Dean stood and immediately enveloped her in an embrace.

Dean held onto her tightly, and the scent of her perfume instantly conjured up a feeling of safety and security that he realised had been missing from his life for as long as she had been gone.

Pausing in the kitchen doorway, Dean peered back over his shoulder, eager for one more look at his mother.

As he watched her in the darkness, nursing her cup and finishing up the last of her cocoa with a serene smile upon her face, he whispered softly, "Goodnight Mom."

**x-x-x**

Despite the best of his efforts to cross the room stealthily, Dean had succeeded in waking Jo even before he had slipped clumsily back between the sheets. Her hunter's instincts immediately kicking in, Jo sat bolt upright in the bed, her fingers moving towards her father's knife, which she often slept with beneath her pillow.

"Hey, sorry," Dean murmured as he gazed at Jo across the short space that separated them. "Didn't mean to wake you."

Jo nodded, ready with a smile as she relaxed back against her pillows and stretched her arms above her head. She closed her eyes momentarily, pointing her toes as she attempted to shake lose her sleep coiled muscles.

"Where were you anyway?" she inquired, finally rolling onto her side and resting her palm in the centre of Dean's chest.

Searching Jo's hand out in the dark, Dean slid his fingers through hers.  
>"I couldn't sleep," he explained, closing his eyes as she nestled closer and rested her head in the crook of his neck.<p>

"I was talking to my Mom..." he chuckled at the sheer ludicrousy of his words, before a melancholy sigh forced his lips apart.  
>"I know you miss her, Dean," Jo said softly, lifting her gaze to his face as she felt him nod.<br>Trying not to dwell on the entirely maudlin thoughts that had overcome him, Dean blew out an unsteady breath.  
>"She likes you. She uh... she thinks we have a shot," he murmured, and Jo grinned as she rolled her eyes at his playful teasing.<br>"She does, huh?" Jo retorted.  
>Dean pulled her closer, leaving her all but draped over his chest, and he smiled at the sensation of her eyelashes fluttering against his skin.<p>

"How does it feel to talk to her again?" Jo asked quietly as she laid her ear against Dean's bare chest and relished in the soft pounding of his heart. She closed her eyes, blowing out a small breath that ruffled the hairs on Dean's chest and tickled his skin.

"Weird," Dean answered, uncertain of his actual feelings on the matter, which ranged from pure joy to debilitating sorrow depending on the time of day.

"I couldn't imagine seeing my Dad again," Jo murmured, a familiar but considerably dulled pang of grief stabbing at her. "I guess it's just been too long."

Dean uttered a soft noise of agreement, stroking his fingertips along her shoulder blade as he listened.

"It's the good kind of weird though," Dean finally continued, picking up from his previous train of thought as though no time had elapsed. "Kind of feels like getting to know my family better."

"I bet your Mom could tell some cool stories," Jo agreed, stifling a yawn as she felt sleep begin to lay claim to her body once again.

"I guess so, " Dean agreed, the ghost of a smile playing across his lips.  
>Jo sighed, emitting a sleepy yawn as she nestled further into his arms. Sweeping her hand across his chest, Jo peered up to hold his gaze. "Are you gonna be okay?"<br>Dean appeared to take a few moments to think over her question and his quiet chuckle caused her to immediately arch an eyebrow in surprise.  
>"Dean?" Jo leant up to regard him curiously.<br>Easing her back against his chest and enfolding her in his arms, Dean pressed a kiss against her cheek, "Don't really got a choice here, Jo."  
>"No," she agreed sadly, her heart aching for him as she contemplated all that had been taken from him, from his chance at a childhood to the possibility of at any sort of 'normal' life.<br>"I'll be okay," he whispered against her ear, allowing his eyes to flicker closed as her palm fluttered up against his cheek, "and I'm glad she got to meet you."

Jo stirred in his arms and, before he had a chance to open his eyes, her lips were moving against his.  
>Tangling his fingers in her hair, Dean returned her kiss and nuzzled affectionately against her neck as she lay her head in the crook of his arm, and continued to absently stroke her fingertips across the back of his hand.<br>"Goodnight, darlin'," his voice drifted across the shell of her ear, eliciting a sleepy smile.  
>He watched as Jo stretched languidly, and in the next moment he felt her legs tangle with his. An echo of his words drifted in a whisper from her lips and, seconds later, her gentle breaths signalled that sleep had claimed her once more.<p>

Closing his own eyes, Dean tried to dispel the grief that was slowly awakening in his heart.

**x-x-x**

Sam Winchester could not sleep; for the fourth night in a row, his dreams were plagued by images of her smiling face, and the echoes of the gentle lilting voice he had not heard for too long. He had become almost accustomed to awaking in a sweat, the chaotic pounding of his heart against his ribcage so loud that he thought every time it must be audible. Usually, sleep failed to return after such a dream, and Sam would lie awake in bed, tossing and turning fitfully until the first vestiges of dawn sneaked through the chink in his drapes. Tonight, however, Sam decided to try a different tactic, thoroughly bored and infuriated by the prospect of yet another night's sleep lost. Deciding that a shot of something acrid and strong from the bar was perhaps exactly what he needed, Sam abandoned his bed and shuffled from his bedroom.

He made straight for the kitchen, scurrying through the darkened corridors with an almost urgency as he contemplated the tall bottle that awaited him. He had reached the darkened kitchen and begun to rifle through the liquor cabinet before he even realised that he was not alone.

"Samuel Matthew Winchester," intoned a familiar voice, the presence of which surprised Sam for all of ten seconds until he remembered. "Do you want to tell me what the hell you're doing raiding the alcohol at gone midnight?"

Sam instantly froze, unaccustomed to not only the voice itself, but the thoroughly parental tone directed at him.  
>"I uh... I..." he stammered, turning slowly to face his mother as a wide smile spread across his features. Despite his misery, finding his mother standing before him - young, vibrant, and very much alive- was a truly awe inspiring experience.<br>"I..." he began again, closing the door to the cabinet with a gentle click, "I can't sleep. I figured I'd..." He gestured toward the bottles and shrugged as a guilty blush bathed his cheeks.

"I see," she nodded, planting her hand on her hip as she surveyed him with apparent curiosity.  
>Whilst she at least knew the infant Dean, this version of Mary Winchester had yet to meet her youngest son. Her desire to know him was marred only by her guilt at not having been there to raise him.<p>

"You want to talk about it? Keep me company?" she suggested, shrugging as she added through a weak smile, "I can't seem to sleep either."

Sam sucked in a breath, wondering exactly how much of his past it was possible to safely divulge to Mary, without there being some kind of repercussion on their timeline. Resolving to choose his words carefully, Sam pulled up the chair adjacent to his mother, and settled back in the seat. His shoulders slumped and his bangs slid in front of his eyes, partially hiding his expression from Mary's view.

"Nightmares," Sam admitted, shame and reluctance shining through in his tone. Mary frowned and lightly rested one hand on Sam's forearm, deciding that it was perhaps best to remain quiet until he felt comfortable enough to tell his tale.

"I was engaged once," Sam murmured quietly, tossing a surreptitious glance at Mary in order to see how she digested this news. Her face was an unreadable mask, so Sam dropped his eyes back to the surface of the table and paused for a beat.

"She passed," he explained, unable to bring himself to employ another, harsher term to describe Jess' absence in his life. For a long time, Sam had been dealing with Jessica's death remarkably well. Whilst he had known that she would always occupy an untouchable place in his heart, he had reached a point in his grief after six long years where he had begun to grow hopeful that, one day, he could find happiness in another's arms. However, with the recent revival of his nightmares, and the guilt that went hand in hand with them, Sam now considered such thoughts as not only ludicrous, but treacherous to his fiancées memory.

"I'm sorry," Mary lamented softly, placing her hand over his as she tried to overcome the dread that began to rapidly settle over her. "What happened?"  
>Sam floundered, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly before he successfully managed to choose what he hoped was a suitable answer.<p>

"A demon."

Mary bobbed her head, her mind racing as she tried in vein to detect the details she instinctively knew her son was hiding. "She was a hunter?"  
>"No," Sam shook his head, images of Jess flooding his memory. "She was a college student."<br>"Sam..." Mary began gently, taking a deep breath as she stared down at the table before raising her gaze to meet his eyes, "what aren't you telling me?"

Watching her son's body tense at the implication, Mary knew her assumptions had been correct. Clearly the details of this girl's death were related to her son's heritage, and perhaps her own ill thought out deal with Azazel. It was a sobering and heartbreaking thought; that not only had her children lived their lives in the shadow of her death, but that their happiness as adults had been snatched away indirectly by her own hand.

Sam appeared to mull over her words for a few seconds, before discarding them completely.

"You know, I was coping," he began, rubbing at his face and jaw with the entire palm of one hand. In the pale moonlight that filtered in through the window, Mary finally noticed the dark purple bruises beneath Sam's eyes that evidently laid testament to just how little sleep he was managing these days.

"What changed?" Mary pressed, instinctively reaching out and pushing an errant tendril of Sam's hair away from his eyes. He consented to smile at the gentle touch of her fingertips against his brow, despite the thoughts that troubled him.

"I don't know," he replied, shrugging to demonstrate his helplessness. "It's been a long time... I thought I was over the worst part but... lately, I just can't seem to get her off my mind."

"It's normal, after a tragedy like that, for it to haunt our subconscious for a long time afterwards," Mary began quietly, her voice earnest as her eyes swept Sam's face. He shook his head quickly.

"No, these dreams, they... they started out... kind of nice," Sam revealed, frowning at the apparent absurdity of his own statement. "Almost like she wasn't gone at all... we were just being normal."

Mary nodded, and Sam glanced up as he watched her apparently pause to deliberate over her choice of words.  
>"Maybe it's got something to do with Dean and Jo?" she suggested kindly, adding quickly, "I guess it'd be natural to..."<br>"I'm not jealous of Dean... Mary," Sam replied a little too quickly, stumbling over his words as his voice dropped barely above a whisper, "_Mom_."  
>"I know that, Sam. You boys take good care of each other, I can see that. But, you think that maybe seeing them together makes you think about..."<br>"Jess," Sam supplied.  
>"Jess," Mary repeated, "...makes you think about her more?"<br>Blowing out an unsteady breath, Sam shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe, I guess. But, the dreams... nightmares... they're happening all the time. I can't get the images out of my head, I...I just want it to stop, you know?"  
>Mary's heart ached at the sight of her son rapidly blinking back tears, and she placed a hand uncertainly on his shoulder, a heavy silence descending upon them.<p>

"They were never this bad, even right after she..." Sam paused, clearing his throat before concluding his sentence, "even after Jess died. I just don't see why they've started up again now, and so much worse than before. We got a good thing going here at the Roadhouse. Dean's happier than I've ever seen him..."

"You all seem happy," Mary interjected, bringing an end to Sam's nervous rush by placing a hand on his knee. She squeezed gently, offering her son a smile. "Maybe all you need to do is talk to Dean."

"What would I say?" Sam demanded, shaking his head almost as though he was determined to dismiss the idea.

"Whatever you need to," replied Mary, not missing a beat. Sam stared back at his mother, his eyelids blinking rapidly as he contemplated her advice. There were times when growing up that Sam would have given anything to be able to talk with his mother in such a way, offloading all the grief and guilt onto someone who truly cared without any of the fear that they would grow weary with the burden of listening. However, now that Sam was being given the actual opportunity to do as much, he found that not even a mother's insight could soothe away some problems.

"I just don't want him to think I'm not happy for them," Sam said quietly, his eyes drawn back to the scuffed tabletop. "They've been through a lot to get here."

Mary's expression darkened as she tried not to imagine the lives her two sons had led, exposed to the cruelty and darkness of the life she had tried so very hard to protect them from.

"He's your brother," Mary answered with a shrug, her eyes pricking with tears as she considered the immeasurable bond between the siblings.

Sam bobbed his head in agreement, swallowing hard as he felt the slow burn of impending tears scorch the back of his throat. In one swift move he had reached for his mother, and she wrapped him in a maternal embrace.

Clinging to her with desperation, Sam closed his eyes and committed the scene to memory, realising that once this moment passed, it would be gone forever.

"I missed you," he choked out, inhaling the scent of her perfume, and willing it to prick at his memories.  
>"You don't even remember me, Sam," she whispered, a sharp pain stabbing at her heart at the truth behind her words. Though she appreciated the kindness and sensitivity that so obviously lay behind her younger son's claim, she knew it could not be true. Sam had been a mere baby when she had died.<p>

Sam lifted his head and met her gaze, smiling as he found something familiar in the depths of her blue eyes.

"Yes I do. You're my Mom."

* * *

><p><strong>We're back! We hope you missed us as much as we missed you. Thank you for your patience in waiting for an update to this and our other stories. We're hoping to have more for you in the coming weeks. Happy New Year to all. <strong>


	21. Chapter 21

_**Episode 7 – Part 3**_

'_**Mary's Boys'**_

_**x-x-x**_

Gathered in the small but homely lounge area at the rear of the roadhouse, the four hunters sat in silence to contemplate the ramifications of their impending failure to send Mary home. The expressions they wore were similarly morose. Dean and Jo sat intertwined on the couch, whilst Mary occupied the easy-chair which Sam leaned back against from his position on the floor. He nursed a large mug of black coffee, his third in the last hour; a fact which nobody had passed comment on given that their thoughts were otherwise occupied by Castiel's words of warning. Sam presumed that his caffeine intake would cease to be of relevance should _he_ cease to be- a prospect that was looking increasingly more likely as the day wore on.

"This is getting ridiculous," Dean stated almost angrily, shooting a glance at Jo as she rested her hand on his knee and squeezed gently.

"We'll figure something out, Dean," she promised, her voice unnaturally low. She swept his features with her chocolate brown gaze, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as she did so. Dean breathed a sigh of defeat but nodded nonetheless.

"We could call Bobby?" Sam suggested, pausing to take an audible gulp of coffee. He swallowed and grimaced at the bitter after taste before finishing, "see if he can shed some light on what Gabriel may have wanted."

"No," Dean said quickly, shaking his head, "Cas said we have to keep this quiet. The less people that know Mom's here, the safer it is for us all."

"Dean, come on man; it's Bobby, the guy practically raised..." Sam stopped abruptly, and he cast a regretful smile over at his mother who blew out a shaky breath.

Dean caught his sibling's eye, his jaw set and his expression murderous, and Sam shrank back against the side of the armchair.

"I'm sorry, I..." stammered Sam, his eyes wide and doleful.

"No." Mary shook her head, smiling bitterly as she looked between each of her children, "I'm sorry. What I did to you... this life, this..."

"Hey, no," Dean shook his head, sitting forward to catch her attention, "Mary, I... Mom..."

"You pleaded with me once not to exist," she recalled, the memories of their previous meetings now rising to the forefront of her mind, "I did this to you, I'm the one who should be sorry..."

"Okay, so most of our lives have been pretty crappy..." Dean allowed, wincing as he realised the enormous understatement he was making, "but, we're okay, Mom, we're...we're good. And, aside from the occasional decapitation or exorcism, I'm happy. Life's... a lot less sucky than it used to be."

Mary stared into the depths of her coffee mug, obviously not entirely convinced by Dean's testimony.

The sound of a voice calling out from the bar suddenly caught all four hunters' attentions, and Jo sprang to her feet, grateful for an excuse to extract herself from the heavy atmosphere.

"I'll go!" she volunteered, smiling tightly at each of the Winchesters before she made a hasty exit.

"We leave Bobby out of this," Sam agreed, draining the last dregs from his mug before setting it down on the floor at his feet. Dean nodded, the look he shot Sam somewhat apologetic, although he said nothing further on the matter. Mary curled her legs up onto the chair, hugging her knees as she watched Dean carefully for several seconds.

"If we could just work out what Gabriel…" Dean began, trailing off as Jo returned to the room, a brown wrapped package in her hands and a bemused look upon her face. Without a word, she glanced from each of her fellow hunters in the room before coming to a halt in front of Mary. Extending one hand, Jo offered her the package, unsurprised by the mystified look Mary shot her. She accepted the package and examined it intently, uncertainty written plainly across her features.

"What is this?" Mary inquired, frowning as she examined the hurriedly scrawled address, which succeeded her own name on the label.

"It's addressed to you?" Sam asked, both he and Dean scrambling to their feet and joining Jo to stand in a semi-circle around their mother.

Mary hesitantly tore the corner of the package open and peered with caution into the depths of the paper. Curling her hand around the object inside, she pulled out a DVD box and instantly her mouth dropped open in surprise.

"The Wizard of Oz?" she arched a blonde eyebrow, frowning as she twisted the plastic case in her hands and peered up at her sons, "what is this?"

Dean couldn't help but smile at her blank expression as he explained, "It's uh... kind of like a VHS tape."

"It's so small," Mary looked at him almost disbelievingly, "this is a movie?"

"Yep," he confirmed with a nod as he lifted the paper from her lap and scanned the handwriting to see if the cursive looked familiar.

"Dean's a big movie fan," Jo said, shooting him a teasing smile.

"But who would send this to me? Here… and now?" demanded Mary, her curiosity in the new article she held momentarily overwhelmed by her unrest.

"I can think of at least one person," replied Jo, arching an eyebrow as she looked to Dean for his own opinion on the matter. Slowly he nodded, his frown still in place.

"We need to watch this," Sam stated, almost snatching the DVD from Mary's hands and beginning to tear away the plastic wrapping. Mary watched with interest as Sam popped the case open and then slid a small, circular shiny object from the box. Her eyes widened and she shook her head in faint disbelief, part of her somewhat sad that she would never get to witness such progressions first hand in her lifetime.

"That's… amazing…" Mary breathed, her awed gaze not once wavering as Sam hunkered down in front of the DVD player and inserted the disk, causing the machine to spring to life with a whirr and series of flashing little lights.

Jo chuckled, shaking her head and shrugging at the inquisitive look Mary shot her.

"I've just never really thought of it that way before," she explained, her smile wide and genuine, and reflected in Mary's own features. "But I guess it really is pretty amazing."

"Hey, Sammy, maybe we shouldn't…" Dean began, his tone hesitant as he took a step towards his brother, who was already searching for the correct channel on the flat screen. Both brothers scrambled back from the TV in comical unison as the screen sparked into life, and Jo glanced up questioningly at Dean as he all but ushered her behind him.

"Dean, it's just a movie," she assured him, gesturing to the TV as the menu appeared and the screen was painted with an image of the Emerald City.

"Humour me," Dean smiled, deflecting her sigh with a brief kiss to her cheek.

"Don't I always?" she grumbled under her breath, unable to prevent herself mirroring the affectionate smile that tugged at Dean's lips.

"It can't be a coincidence, right?" Mary stated rather than inquired. It seemed logical to her that since this had been the very movie that 'little Dean' had been watching when she had been abducted then some explanation should reside in its sudden appearance.

"So far… so good." Sam turned to regard his family, not entirely certain how best to proceed. "Now what?"

Mary shrugged and folded her arms across her chest, a contemplative frown marring her pretty face. Jo watched her closely, smiling as she recognised the very same expression that she frequently saw play across Dean's own features. The resemblance between mother and son was subtle but most definitely present, and Jo filed the comparison away for later, certain that Dean would be complimented by it.

"I guess now we watch the movie," Mary replied, taking a seat once more as she tried to quell the sense of deep unease this apparently innocuous activity was provoking. Dean perched on the arm of the chair beside her, pulling Jo into his lap and wrapping a protective arm around her, before gesturing for Sam to take up residence on the opposing arm.

"Should… should we get the guns or something?" asked Sam, his expression incredulous as a result of his own query even as he surveyed the other hunters.

"You think we should?" Dean inquired, leaning forwards and frowning as he contemplated the idea. Jo snorted and shook her head, resting a restraining hand on Dean's chest. Her eyes were alight with amusement, although she could well understand their mutual trepidation; the Winchesters' propensity to overreact was something that served both to endear the brothers to Jo whilst simultaneously pissing her off.

"Guys, relax," she demanded, affixing Sam and Dean with a stern look that almost dared them to argue. Mary looked on in approval, amused by how well Jo seemed to have a handle on her boys.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Mary agreed, her eyes affixed on the TV screen in obvious wonderment as the movie began to start, spurred into life by Jo, who had seized the remote control from Sam.

After their initial concern had passed, the brothers found themselves becoming more and more immersed in the movie, much to the delight of Mary, who was finally able to share her old favourite with her youngest child.

"This was always your favourite part of the movie." Mary directed a smile at Dean, heralding the arrival of the Munchkins on the screen with a wave of her hand. Dean mustered a responding grin, for the moment pushing aside the feelings of sadness stirred within as he realised that the very last time he had been able to stomach this particular movie was before his mother's death.

"I don't think I ever watched this movie before," Jo mused, suddenly frowning as she realised that one particular face on the screen seemed strangely out of place.

Sam shook his head, and both brothers leaned forward in their seats, whilst Mary too strained to locate the man once again.

"Whoah, whoah..." Dean exclaimed, searching blindly for the remote control.

"Was that?" Sam began, shaking his head as he considered the absurdity of his question, "that wasn't... I mean... it couldn't be..."

"Gabriel," Dean growled, his jaw clenched as he directed the control at the DVD player, freezing the picture. He rewound by several frames before stabbing the pause button. Sure enough, perched on the wall surrounding the large pond in the centre of the screen, was the angel in question, reclining with a wide smile. His lips were stained somewhat comically with an unknown substance, and Jo squinted as she peered at the screen in an effort to better make out what Gabriel clutched in his left hand.

"What is that he's holding?" Sam inquired, as though reading Jo's thoughts. Dean shrugged, watching as Mary crawled on hands and knees towards the television in order to press her nose practically against the screen.

"It looks like…" she tailed off, frowning as though she doubted her own eyes, before she finished. "An Easter egg?"

"What the hell?" Dean demanded, ushering Jo from his knee and approaching the TV in a similar fashion to his mother, who was turning her head at various angles as though she had made some sort of mistake.

"The dude did have a thing for candy," Dean muttered, glancing at Mary and nodding his agreement at her identification of the oval shaped, brown object that Gabriel nursed. The entire top section of the egg appeared to have been devoured, but it was still quite obviously an Easter egg.

"No… wait…" Sam said slowly, before springing to his feet and snatching the remote from Dean's hand, completely ignoring his brother's indignant protest. Sam continued excitedly, "Don't you guys get it?"

Mary and Jo exchanged blank expressions that conveyed quite clearly that they indeed, did not get 'it'. Dean sat back on his heels and glared up at his brother, who was launching into his most animated hunting mode.

After an unsuccessful attempt at swatting his younger brother away, Dean relinquished his hold on the remote. Sam peered momentarily at the device before pressing a short sequence of buttons, his brow furrowed in evident concentration.

"This is an Easter egg!" Sam declared, grinning as Jo mouthed a silent 'oh' and nodded at him in approval.

"What's an Easter egg?" Mary asked, her features clouded with confusion as she and Dean both stood side by side and folded their arms across their chests in unison.

"It's like... hidden features, things you don't usually get to see on the regular movie," Sam stated, blinking as a pair of red, sparkly shoes descended onto the screen, and Dorothy's voice repeated one singular line.

"There's no place like home?" Dean repeated in confusion, watching the shoes dance across the TV.

"How did he..." Mary trailed off as the image of the ruby slippers faded, leaving in its place a smiling Gabriel, who appeared to be finishing off the remnants of his candy. He smacked his lips together after popping the last shard of broken egg into his mouth, and then proceeded to wipe the back of his hand across his lips, smearing chocolate in its wake.

"Hey guys!" the angel chirruped, his lips forming a goofy grin as he leaned forwards in his leather chair, almost seeming to be staring directly at the Winchester brothers. Tilting his head to one side so that his field of vision shifted to Mary and Jo, he added with a mildly suggestive grin, "And girls."

"Weird," Jo muttered, encircling herself with her own arms and backing a little further away from the television. Sam stared intently at the screen, but Dean seized the remote control and began stabbing frantically at buttons in a bid to shut the machine off. However, every button appeared to have been rendered useless.

"Well, if everything has gone according to plan, which it will of course because it was my plan, then the year should be 2010 and I should have the great pleasure of addressing three quarters of the Winchester clan," Gabe stated, his manic grin growing wider as he added "plus the hot little piece of honey-blonde ass that ol' Dean-O is screwing."

Dean sucked in a breath and, onscreen, Gabriel pressed a hand lazily to his mouth, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Ooops!" he chuckled, winking in what appeared to be Mary's direction, "sorry Momma!"

Jo felt a blush burn at her cheeks and she quickly directed her gaze to her feet. Chancing a quick glance in Mary's direction, she was relieved to find the other woman's eyes still affixed in bewilderment on the screen.

"So, you're probably wondering what this little visit I arranged is all about. Well, _that_, you're gonna have to figure out for yourselves but... you'll get there eventually, long as you let Sammy lead with the thinkin', of course. No offence, Dean."

Dean sighed in obvious irritation and cast a sideways glance at Jo, who was unsuccessfully hiding a smirk.

Gabriel continued on, "Once you've made nice with the Mommy person and cried on her shoulder about your sad, miserable, angst-ridden lives in her absence... you're gonna need to send her back, otherwise Harvard boy here, ain't gonna exist. So..."

He clapped his hands together and gestured down toward his feet, where he seemed to be sporting a pair of ruby sequined slippers.

"What do you think? It's a daring look, I know, but... I think I can pull it off. It's all about confidence," he crooned, pressing his hand to his head as if suddenly struck by an afterthought, "right... sending Momma bear home... you kids are gonna need to locate these puppies!"

"He's kidding, right?" Jo groused, still affronted by his previous comments and feeling her annoyance mounting by the second.

"I doubt it," growled Dean, tossing the now useless remote onto the couch and glowering at the angel, who doubtlessly could neither see nor hear the Winchesters. "Stupid son of a…"

A single sharp glare from Mary was all it took to silence Dean before the profanity had escaped his lips. Sam clambered to his feet and dove behind the couch, emerging again seconds later with an armful of both local and national newspapers that the hunters had recently been using to scout out potential jobs. Thrusting a small stack of papers at each of his fellow hunters, Sam wasted no time in settling onto the couch with his own pile, and beginning to scan each passage from front to back in a bid to find even a mention of the movie that Dean was quickly coming to loathe.

"Well then, all that's left is for me to bid you adieu," Gabriel stated, raising one hand and smirking at Dean almost as an afterthought. "You want to know what I love about this movie, Dean?"

"Got a feeling you're gonna tell me anyway," Dean quipped, his wide, bright smile fake and obvious as he began to rock on his heels as he watched the TV.

"It's all about the importance of family and home," Gabe said, his eyes darkening a fraction as he moved closer to the screen and hunkered down so that only his head was visible from the neck up. "Dorothy… sweet chick, brave, impetuous, little naive… she learned to hang on to the only folks she had left, in the end. Didn't matter anymore that her lot in life wasn't exactly a glamorous one… she knew she had to hang onto it, for better or worse, richer or poorer… so on and… so on…"

For a moment, Gabriel remained silent, and Dean found himself staring almost transfixed at the angel, his mind suddenly blank. Shaking himself visibly from his impromptu reverie, Gabriel sprang to his feet and danced backwards away from the screen, one arm waving manically.

"Remember, my pretties," he called, adopting a doe eyed expression, and softer tone, "there's no place like home… there's no place like home… there's…"

The image on the screen faded into a central black blob, and Dean shot a quick look at Jo, who grinned as she stepped out from behind the back of the TV stand, clutching the plug in one hand.

"Sorry… I couldn't take much more," she explained, tossing the plug to the floor and seating herself beside Sam. "What exactly are you looking for there, Sam?"

"There was something in the newspapers about this movie memorabilia display at a museum in Kansas, I think..." Sam mumbled, holding aloft one page of a tattered newspaper with a sudden and triumphant smile.

Jo peered over his shoulder, her eyes widening as she followed the path of his finger across the page, "Dorothy's slippers are part of the display."

"So, what... we're supposed to take a road trip to Kansas, steal Dorothy's Manolos, and Mom goes home?" Dean asked askance, looking between the three hunters as they each pondered the idea.

"Pretty much," Sam agreed, watching as Dean stared forlornly at Mary, and both brothers realised their time together was rapidly drawing to an end.

"Then I guess we're going to Kansas," Mary said softly, managing a smile as she peered up at her sons.

Dean nodded, licking his lips nervously as he found himself unable to meet his mother's gaze, "I'm not... I'm not ready to say goodbye yet."

Mary blinked quickly, dismissing the tears she felt pricking at her eyes, and she curled her fingers around her eldest child's wrist, marvelling at how their tips failed to meet. It was a far cry from the small boy whose whole hand could fit snugly inside her own.

"It's the way things were meant to be, Dean," she replied, "there's never a good time to say goodbye to somebody you love. I wish I could stay, I wish... but you know I can't."

Dean nodded, recognising the reality behind Mary's words and yet unable to accept them nonetheless. He shot a brief glance to his side as he felt a stirring, and smiled when his eyes met a pair of warm, chocolate brown orbs affixed on him with partially concealed concern.

Sam rested a hand on his brother's shoulder as he moved towards Mary, his own features clouded with regret as he stated, "We better get going. Long drive ahead."

**x-x-x**

Laying eyes on the Impala had been almost overwhelming to Mary. The car, once John's first baby, appeared no different than it did in her own time save for the fact that the backseat was no longer strewn with the carelessly abandoned collection of toys belonging to a toddler. Mary had clambered into the back with an almost haunted look in her eyes, but by the time the Impala had squealed out of the fenced off yard at the back of the roadhouse, she had managed to check her errant emotions. The condition in which John and the boys had managed to maintain the car over the last two decades was truly amazing, and Mary soon found herself drinking in the well preserved interior with a heightened sense of fondness. She recalled the regular weekend outings to parks, zoos and softball games that she and John had thus far enjoyed with Dean, and tried not to dwell too long or hard on the fact that she would never share the same with her youngest son. She had even smiled, albeit somewhat mystified, when her hand brushed against something sharp and small sticking out of the ashtray of the passenger door. That smile had only intensified as she had gazed almost in awe at the tiny green, plastic army man wedged into the space, stuck fast as a result of the wide base at his feet. For the first fifty miles of the journey, Mary simply took in every little detail that presented itself, becoming more and more convinced as the minutes passed that, after her death, her boys had had something to call home.

Glancing in the rear view mirror, Dean took his eyes momentarily off the road ahead in order to watch his mother. Brushing her hair behind her ear, Mary appeared similarly transfixed by her younger son, who was chatting animatedly to her in a tone Dean could make out as little more than a rushed babble.

A small smile twitched at his lips before he returned his gaze to the road as an enormous truck approached. The vehicle plundered past the Impala, blowing up a cloud of dust and grit that swept along the side of the car with a soft clatter.

Jo fidgeted in the passenger seat, glancing at Mary and Sam before finally allowing her eyes to rest on Dean. Reaching to her side, Jo rested her hand on Dean's leg and smiled as he instantly captured her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.

"Anyone hungry? There's a gas station coming up," Dean offered, quickly eyeing the map Jo had spread out across her knee. Dusk was fast falling and, although driving conditions were favourable, the failing light combined with the unusual amount of traffic on the highways and roads was making Dean ever more cautious.

When he received no response, the occupants of the backseat too immersed in their chatter to have even noticed his voice resonating in the small space, Dean shot a glance at Jo, seeking her direction with a single look. She peered at the clock in the centre of the dash, her mind working quickly to calculate the distance they had yet to cover combined with the time it would take to do such, before she shook her head.

"I think we're all good," she murmured, squeezing Dean's leg to punctuate her reply. She was almost certain that his sudden and uncharacteristic eagerness to visit every one of the less than ideal rest stops along the route had more to do with his reluctance to be parted from Mary once again than it did his hankering for a pack of beef jerky. There was little Jo could do to soften the blow of another separation, and so she supported Dean quietly, with every fleeting look that passed between them and every chance touch of their limbs.

He nodded, eyes glued to the road, and focused on making the next turn. Jo reached across and began to twiddle the knobs of the radio, hoping that she would happen upon something that would bring Dean a degree of peace.

Finally settling on a classic rock station, Jo kept her gaze steady on the horizon.

She placed her hand over Dean's, curling her fingers a little tighter around his hand as she cast a nonchalant gaze in his direction and noted the tense set of his jaw.

Mary watched the exchange from the back seat with a smile of approval, and she accepted Sam's adoring stare and patted the back of his hand in reassurance.

The four passengers travelled in silence for the remaining journey, too afraid to give voice to the fears and grief that tore at their hearts. An hour later, the _'Welcome to Kansas'_ sign was little more than a fleeting image in the rear-view mirror.

**x-x-x**

The sound of the museum alarm blaring had shattered Dean's sour mood in record time, and replaced it with the steady flow of adrenaline through his veins. He and Sam had entered the museum through the basement several hours after closing, which had proved a surprisingly easy feat considering some of the treasures and trinkets the museum currently housed. They had both expected security to be far tighter than the one lone guard whom Jo was currently flirting with out front, whilst Mary kept a watchful eye from the front seat of the Impala, ready to gun the engine at a moment's notice.

It seemed, however, that the museum owners had been far more cunning in their security measures, with the addition of motion sensitive alarms for a number of the exhibits. Dean had only discovered this, too late, after smashing the glass surround of the infamous ruby slippers. The sirens had been almost instantaneous, and Dean had barely managed to snatch the shoes into his arms before the sound of a dog barking had reached their ears.

Now, a safe distance away from the scene of the crime, the four hunters stood around the Impala, each unwilling to utter the obvious directions that would send Mary home. Dean and Sam stood side by side, peering down at their mother with similar expressions of heartbreak that caused Mary's eyes to prick with tears.

"Okay, well... I guess I put them on?" Mary shrugged, half-heartedly testing the weight of the slippers in her hands as she tried to compose her thoughts.

The thought of her infant son all alone at home spurred on her decision, but the sombre tears of his adult counterpart tugged at her heart.

Jo leaned back against the car, her arms folded across her chest as she watched the siblings.

The grief at her own mother's loss was still raw, and she wondered if, given the chance, she would want to be in Dean and Sam's position, knowing that the pain of separation was perhaps even greater this time around.

The hunters watched wordlessly as Mary kicked off her boots and then slid her feet into the slippers, which seemed a perfect fit despite having appeared to be two sizes too small when clasped in her hands.

Mary peered down at her feet, her lip curling in an odd smile as she noted without much humour how the ruby slippers glittered in a contrast to the thick wool socks she wore with them.

"Guess it's time to get this show on the road," Mary said quietly, straining her ears in order to pick out the cacophony of sounds in the distance. Dogs barked, radios blared, and drunks spilling out of bars sang loudly and off key, but nothing more perplexing than the basic din of humanity in the early hours of the day presented itself. Having failed to detect the presence of sirens, Mary nodded in satisfaction before turning her gaze upon her two children. The last few days had been surreal at the very least, but Mary could only hope that whatever spell Gabriel had weaved would allow them all to retain the memories of those special days, which had awarded her a final insight into how her children's lives would turn out in her absence.

Dean nodded unwillingly, exhaling a slow, deep breath as he stepped forward and extended his arms toward his mother. Mary gazed up with obvious pride at her first born, slipping her arms around his waist as he clung to her.

Dean closed his eyes and inhaled the warm, comforting scent of her perfume, hoping to renew the few memories he held of what it felt like to be in his mother's embrace.

"I'm so proud of you," Mary stated, planting her hands gently on either side of his face, her gaze flicked to Sam and she smiled in awe at both of her children, "of both of you. I'm so sorry I'll never get to know you."

Swallowing hard, Mary peered up sadly at Sam, "...that you'll never really know me."

"But I do," Sam shook his head as he regarded his mother with defiance.

"Guess I don't need to say 'take care of each other'," she sighed, hugging Dean once more before stepping to her side and throwing her arms just as eagerly around Sam, "seems like that's all you've ever done. I never wanted this for you, this life... I..."

"Mom, it's okay," Dean shook his head, holding her gaze to emphasize his words, "we know."

Chewing at her bottom lip, managing to thwart the watery smile that threatened, Mary gave a final nod. There was nothing that could be said now, or indeed ever, that would undo the past, or some of the fatal mistakes she had made in it. Her destiny, and those of her boys, were already set in stone, and had been from the moment Mary had sealed her deal with a yellow eyed demon.

Drawing away from her sons, Mary moved to stand directly in front of Jo, who seemed somewhat surprised by the attention of the Winchester matriarch. Jo straightened up, offering a smile that communicated she understood Mary's pain, before she offered the other woman a somewhat awkward embrace. Mary pulled the blonde into her arms with a grin, hugging her with vigour, and smoothing one palm down the lengths of Jo's hair.

Jo was surprised immediately by the immense comfort she derived from the gesture; there was something about Mary's embrace that drew such parallels to her own mother's that Jo could not help but feel her own personal tinge of sadness at the woman's departure. This new emotion was not only on behalf of her boyfriend, but also herself. Seeming to sense as much, Mary pulled back, still gripping Jo's arms by the elbows, and squeezed affectionately.

"You take care of my boy, now," she warned, her frown mock serious as she regarded Jo. "And someday, I expect to look down on you two and witness domestic bliss and fat grandbabies, you hear me?"

Jo blushed and simply bobbed her head in a silent promise.

"I'm really glad I got to meet you, Mary," she stated softly, trying to maintain her own composure as Dean reached out and drew her into his side.

Mary watched her oldest son, smiling as she caught him gazing down at his girlfriend with an adoration she recognised; it was with the same look that John greeted her with every morning when they awoke, and every evening when he returned home from work. How she hoped things would turn out differently for the young couple before her.

Catching Dean's gaze, Mary grinned and nodded her head toward Jo as she spoke in a mock whisper, "Keep hold of this one... I like her."

"I will," Dean vowed, his fingers curling around Jo's hip as he held her against his side.

"Time to go," Mary stated, this time the ring of finality in her voice leaving no room for arguments. She peered at the slippers on her feet, a blush rising on the apples of her cheeks as she pondered just how far she would be expected to go by Gabriel in this charade. Deciding to err on the side of caution, Mary began to click her heels together, extracting grins from the three watching hunters despite their sorrow at their imminent parting. Through a stifled giggle, Mary whispered, "There's no place like home… there's no place like home…"

**x-x-x**

Startled suddenly from her thoughts, Mary Winchester jumped a little as her toddler son appeared in the kitchen doorway, a thoroughly peeved expression dominating his little face and one hand held outstretched. With a gasp, Mary realised that the counter before her was wet with the milk she had somehow managed to spill from his sippy-cup and, with a hasty smile at Dean, she grabbed a cloth and began to mop up the mess.

The child watched from the doorway, green eyes wide, and his lips twitching in eager anticipation of his drink and snack. The fact he was hoping for juice was written plainly across his features as he regarded Mary, who was poised milk carton in hand. With a sudden surge of some unfamiliar emotion that troubled her more than she could comprehend, Mary tipped the milk from the cup down the sink, and reached instead for the bottle of grape juice that stood on the side almost as though in waiting. Dean's delighted smile was instant, and Mary listened with half an ear as he began to chatter excitedly, her attention diverted somewhat by the lines that Judy Garland was in the process of repeating – those well-known lines that would transport Dorothy back to the warm, loving familiarity of home.

A memory stirred somewhere in the recesses of her mind, and Mary was filled with a sense of sudden peace, although she could not readily pinpoint the reason for as much. However, deciding the small details hardly mattered, Mary seized Dean's sippy-cup and a handful of chocolate chip cookies and hurried into the lounge, eager to settle herself onto the old overstuffed couch with her son at her side.

**x-x-x**

Reaching up to adjust the rear-view mirror, Dean stole a glance at the sleeping figure curled up on the backseat, before returning his gaze to the road ahead.

Sam had barely spoken a word since they left Kansas. Whilst sheer exhaustion had ushered Jo into a deep, but dreamless sleep, Sam simply stared out of the window of the Impala as he attempted to process the events of the past twenty-four hours.

"You sure you're not hungry… we can stop?" Dean asked for what seemed like the twentieth time in as many minutes. In his well-meaning but clumsy concern for his brother, he had so far only managed to offer burgers and potty breaks. But Sam appreciated the gesture nonetheless, and so shook off this most recent offer with a small smile of thanks.

"No, I'm good," he replied, "but if you want to stop, I mean..."

"Nah," Dean shook his head, "not really hungry."

"You think she'll remember?" Sam asked quietly, his eyes focusing intently on his brother's face as he watched Dean heave a weary sigh and grip the steering wheel a little tighter.

"I hope not," Dean replied, wanting to believe his mother may live out the few years she had ahead of her without the guilt of her children's fate weighing upon her.

"I guess they wouldn't let her anyway," Sam agreed, his heart aching at the realisation that he would always remain something of a stranger to his own mother. Mary would never really get to know his personality, to understand his likes or dislikes. She would never see her own determined spirit, or gentle nature reflected back at her in her youngest child. She would never truly know him and, for that, Sam would always grieve.

"It was nice to know they were happy, even if it was just for a little while," Dean stated, although Sam got the impression he was speaking more to himself than his brother. Dean glanced once again into the backseat and, seeing the evident hope alight in his eyes, an uncomfortable feeling began to prickle at Sam's conscience.

"Why do you think Gabriel did it?" he suddenly demanded, wincing as the tone of his voice caused Jo to murmur and stir in the back, and Dean shot him a reproachful look in response.

"Sent Mom to us?" Dean queried, although he already knew that Sam referred to nothing else. Removing one hand from the wheel, he smoothed his palm down his jaw, feeling a heavy growth of stubble beneath his calloused skin.

"You think it was just a new and interesting way to torture us?" Sam pressed, leaning towards Dean just a little, careful to keep his voice low. Dean shook his head, a definite expression coming into play across his features.

"No, Gabe was an asshat but for the most part he was on our side," he answered, pausing only to indicate a sudden left turn. "The guy had his reasons… I guess he just couldn't be forthcoming about them."

"Or wouldn't," Sam argued, the undercurrent of his tone evidently bitter. Dean shot him a surprised glance, and Sam simply offered a not-too-apologetic shrug.

"It's not like heaven has ever done us any favours before," he argued, leaning back against his seat and struggling to check the sudden wells of anger he felt bubbling up inside. "Look at everything they just let happen to us… to Mom and Dad… to Jo… it's not like any of us have deserved it."

"We fight the good fight," Dean agreed, a smile slipping across his lips. He watched Sam from the corner of his eye, sensing that his brother was building up to some bigger revelation that had him acting all uncharacteristically antsy. Usually, that was a bad sign, as Sam tended to be the more calm and collected of the brothers.

"Gabriel had his reasons, and for him to pull a stunt like that… this whole 'echo' thing… they had to be significant," Sam explained, his features darkening as he finished, "and yet he still refused to spell it out for us… like it was all some big game to him or something, and he was getting his kicks out of thinking about us running round like…. like… things that… run…"

"Something bothering you, Sammy?" Dean inquired, unable to help the amusement that encouraged a grin upon his lips.

"Aside from the obvious?" Sam countered, running both hands through his hair and letting out a hefty sigh.

Sensing that his brother was obviously pondering what he believed to be a great revelation, Dean echoed his sigh, "You got something you wanna share with the class?"

Sam held up his hands defensively, "Look, all I'm saying is, Dean... Gabriel sent Mom thirty years into the future, to us... and we still don't know why."

"And?" Dean laughed, shaking his head bitterly, "wouldn't be the first time they've used our lives for their own celestial entertainment, Sammy."

"And that doesn't worry you?" Sam's eyes widened pointedly.

Dean shrugged, leaning his elbow on the car door as he mulled over Sam's concerns, "Look, Mom told us everything she knew... She and Dad weren't hunting anything, nothing hokey was going on until Gabe showed up..."

Sam paused, deliberating over his words before he spoke again, "What if it's not about Mom and Dad, or... or even us?"

"You mean, Samuel?" Dean blinked, clearly not understanding Sam's line of thought.

"Maybe even before him," Sam suggested noting with a strange sense of satisfaction that Dean now looked suitably concerned.

"I gotta slap you upside the head?" Dean said askance, still not following his brother's logic, "what are you getting at?"

"Was there anything that Mom said to you whilst she was here that set alarm bells ringing?" Sam demanded, leaning forwards in his sheet. Dean half expected him to pull out a notepad and pen for the interrogation, but Sam seemed to be restraining himself to a degree.

"No… I don't know…" Dean faltered, genuinely wracking his brain to reconsider the conversations he had shared with their mother. The situation had been so surreal, and yet so welcome at the same time, that much of what Dean had hoped to commit to memory had been lost as a result of his own awe.

"Maybe," he finally managed, uttering a low growl as Sam glared at him.

"Maybe?" he repeated, arching an eyebrow and tapping on the dashboard pointedly. "Come on, Dean, this is important."

"I know, okay?" Dean snarled in response, rubbing at the nape of his neck as he continued in a somewhat more subdued tone, "she talked a little about how she and Dad met."

"And?" Sam prompted, leaning towards Dean, his eyes wide.

"And I never heard the story before," replied Dean, Sam's attitude clearly poking the proverbial bear.

"Which was?" demanded the younger Winchester. Although Dean's annoyance was evident, and would usually be enough alone to still Sam's relentless questions, he was far too rattled by recent events to allow Dean's crabby mood to dissuade him.

"She said that Samuel and our other grandfather were pals for a while, right after his wife died in a fire."

"A fire?" Sam repeated, the agitation in his voice palpable. Tiny beads of spittle flew from the corners of his lips as he demanded, "And you didn't think to mention this sooner?"

"Mom said that Jack Winchester approached Samuel because he thought there was something… strange… about his wife's death," Dean continued, choosing to ignore Sam's outburst for the moment. He could well understand why such a revelation would ignite that response in his brother, who had after all lost his own fiancé to a fire.

Sam ran his hand through his hair and sighed, casting a fleeting glance at the back seat which Dean instantly intercepted with a glower.

"So, Grandma Winchester... Mom... Jess..." Sam began, shaking his head in sheer frustration as Dean remained staring at the road ahead.

"Yeah, and we got the yellow eyed son of a bitch... case closed," Dean snapped, knowing instantly that the fear which now tainted his tone would be all too obvious to his sibling.

Sam appeared about to speak, but thought better of it moments before the words left his lips. However silence reigned for only a few minutes before Sam felt compelled to speak again.

"What if... " he began licking his lips as he wondered how to voice his concerns.

"What if, what?" Dean demanded, casting a furtive gaze at Sam who was peering down at the dash, obviously lost in thought.

"What if it wasn't yellow eyes? I mean, what if he was only part of the deal?"

Dean's eyes narrowed instantly, and he shook off Sam's reasoning with annoyance.

"So you're saying what, huh? That there's some sort of curse on the chicks in this family?" he asked incredulously.

Sam nodded, "It would make sense."

"Look, all Mom said was that Jack came to Samuel after she died, that they were close for a while, and then suddenly Samuel wasn't real interested in being buds anymore ... and I guess he was pretty pissed when Mom and Dad started dating."

Sam nodded, wincing as he processed this information and started to connect the proverbial dots.

"You can't tell me you're not seeing this, Dean?" Sam almost implored, his lips set in a grim line as he swept Dean's impassive features with his gaze.

"At first maybe but… I don't know, Sammy," sighed Dean, startled suddenly by the presence of the headlights of another oncoming car. He realised that, whilst his attention had been diverted by his brother's incessant questioning, he had inadvertently crossed the centre lines and veered the Impala into the opposite lane. He jerked the wheel sharply, inhaling his panic even as he righted the car and the other motorist passed by without incident.

"I just don't think we should jump to any conclusions," Dean continued, attempting to ignore the desperate pounding of his heart against his ribcage. It was uncharacteristic for him to lose focus when driving, especially when behind the wheel of his beloved Impala. Gathering his composure somewhat, Dean shot Sam a look that communicated the discussion was over.

"Any woman stupid enough to get caught up with a Winchester has met a sticky end," Sam argued, his voice rising again as he realised that he was in danger of losing Dean's uncertainty on the subject.

"Three women," Dean hissed, suddenly twisting the wheel hard again as he spotted a layby. He steered the Impala with practiced ease into the narrow space but did not kill the engine, instead turning a furious look upon his brother.

"Three generations," Sam insisted, his look growing petulant.

"Spit it out, Sam..." Dean demanded, "what you're really saying here is that Jo's next for the Winchester barbecue, right?"

"I'm not saying that... I just think we should take a little time to research, is all." Sam defended, "like you said, we got Azazel. I just think we should cover all our bases. Gabriel brought Mom back for a reason, and we still don't know what that was. What if he's giving us a heads up about stuff we don't know about?"

Dean followed Sam's gaze back to Jo, and he let out a weary sigh.

"Fine. You do your research thing, but not a word of this to Jo, okay? I don't want her freaked out unless she needs to be."

"And what are you going to do?" Sam asked, watching as Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

"I'm gonna do what I do best..." Dean replied stoically, and a smile twitched at Sam's lips as he nodded in understanding.

"You know Jo won't put up with any of your smothering, macho-bull crap, right?" he checked. Dean nodded, beginning to swing the car out of the rest stop once he had ensured the road ahead was clear.

"I know," Dean said softly, recognising the truth behind Sam's statement, and the subsequent trouble it would likely cause between he and Jo if he let it. Harvelle women were not typically easy to handle at the best of times, and any mention of potential trouble would have Jo chomping at the bit to meet it head on. In Dean's mind, it was far better to hide everything and face the potential consequences at a later date, once Jo's safety had been assured.

However, despite Meg's somewhat cryptic warning before she had died, Dean had gained Castiel's assurances that Jo would indeed be fine in the long run. He had yet to be given reason enough to doubt the angel, and so Dean consoled himself the best he could as the trio headed into the sunrise and back towards Nebraska.

When Jo awoke some hours later, they stopped for breakfast in the usual greasy spoon diner just outside the state line, and Dean was surprised to find his mood buoyant. Sam's cheer was forced, and his fragile smile slipped beneath the rim of his coffee mug each time he raised it to his lips. The looks he shot his older brother were constant and pointed whenever the conversation turned to Mary Winchester, but Jo seemed for the most part oblivious to anything that had transpired between the brothers.

Dean refused to let it bother him; when they reached home, Sam would no doubt bury himself in a pile of research, and probably unearth the Winchester family tree for six or seven generations before being satisfied that his theory was incorrect. Dean was almost certain that it was, and it was this self-assurance that allowed him to continue as normal whilst Sam seemed to be floundering.

Until he had reason to believe otherwise, Dean was going to stop looking around the corner for trouble. Because one way or another, it would find them. It always did.

**The End of Episode Seven**

**(Next Episode – 'Meet Jo Blank')**


	22. Chapter 22

_**Episode 8 – Part 1**_

'_**Meet Jo Blank'**_

_**x-x-x**_

_**Orlanda, Florida**_

_**October 13th 2011**_

Getting old had never seemed to be much of an appealing thought to Oliver Tucker, although he assumed it beat out the alternative by a hair's breadth. As a young boy, he had been fascinated by the effects of age on the body, how skin once so peachy and plump could be ravaged over time by liver spots and wrinkles until it loosely resembled an elephant's hide. Once his morbid curiosity had waned along with his youth, and he had watched those closest to him, including his dear mother, wither away on the whim of old Father Time, Oliver had begun to regard his advancing age with a considerable amount of dread.

Although he had lived a good life as a partner of a successful law firm, with a devoted wife and two daughters at his side, Oliver could not help but feel rather cheated by an ailing body that could no longer keep up with a still nimble mind. After Laura had passed away, and both of his children had announced with suitably pained airs that they could not possibly undertake the task of becoming their father's primary caregiver, Oliver had resigned himself to what was to come. The Winter of his life had arrived, and it no longer mattered that he could swear he still felt the warmth of the Summer sun beating down upon him.

The day he had watched the house clearance van draw up outside his home of more than fifty years, Oliver had wept bitter and unashamed tears. The men clad in blue overalls had shifted their eyes to the ground as they passed the old man, sobbing as he waited in what had once been his front yard, cutting a frail and pathetic figure in his wheelchair. Oliver had only been spared the task of watching the vultures pick through the memorabilia of his life by the arrival of the ambulance that was to transport him to his new home, Cedar Wood Retirement Home. Had his arthritic hands still possessed the strength to do so, Oliver thought he would have preferred to wheel himself underneath the ambulance as it drew up to seal his fate.

That day had been almost six weeks ago now and yet Mr. Tucker (as he was known to the staff) was still smarting as though it were only yesterday.

Now, surrounded by a group of his contemporaries who all appeared to be victims of the very final stages of dementia, Oliver simply awaited his fate, hoping the vivacious smile of his late wife would be the last memory to leave him.

Of course, that did not mean he didn't try to alleviate his boredom by engaging in more pleasant daydreams, and the figure of the young blonde who was currently hoisting his TV aerial irritably through the air could certainly fuel a few.

"It doesn't matter, sweetheart," Oliver laughed softly, catching the short, sharp mutter of exasperation that left the young woman's lips.

"I guess that's the best I can do..." she declared with a frown, before chewing on her bottom lip as she squinted in an effort to make out the blurry figures of the actors on the screen. Not that she was intimately familiar with the cast of the poorly scripted daytime soap.

"It's a lousy show, anyway," he replied with a shrug, wincing as the motion caused a deep, burning pain to strike his bad shoulder. "Why don't you come sit down here and tell me about yourself?"

The blonde smiled uncertainly and appeared to ponder his proposition but, taking pity on the obviously lonely old man, she perched across from him on a footstool and traced a fingertip over the fabric of her baby pink scrub pants.

"Not a whole lot to tell," she deflected, gesturing instead to the impressive array of photographs scattered across the nearby dresser, "that your family?"

Oliver nodded with an air of obvious pride, reaching out and hoisting a small black and white frame into his shaking hand. "This is my Laura... prettiest girl in the whole damn county."

The woman took the picture frame as it was offered to her, allowing her new found friend to scan the ID badge that hung from her pocket.

"Elizabeth? That's kind of an old-fashioned name, if you don't mind my saying," Oliver stated, before he added thoughtfully, "My grandmother was Elizabeth. Heck of a woman. Your Mom name you for someone?"

The woman, Elizabeth, nodded her head, rubbing at the nape of her neck, which was exposed since her blonde hair had been piled into a neat bun. She flashed Oliver a toothy grin that he found almost contagious.

"My Dad's Mom… she died when he was still just a kid," she answered, abruptly standing and moving towards the door. The thin cotton pants she wore rustled with every stride. Oliver watched her fluid steps with a sinking feeling, realising that her departure signalled the start of another several hours of quiet solitude until dinnertime once more came around. Then, he would be wheeled into the dining hall to be served a pitiful plate of mush in the company of a group of equally pitiful seniors who had mostly lost control of their faculties.

"Say, nurse…" Oliver called out, faltering as Elizabeth turned on her heel to regard him.

With a patient smile she reminded him, "I'm not a nurse, Mr. Tucker… just a recreational therapist."

At the old man's look of confusion, she insisted, "Call me Beth."

"Beth…" he stated, almost testing the name, before he continued, "do you think maybe… if it's not too much trouble… you could perhaps… stop by later and…"

He tailed off, his eyes alight with such fierce desperation that Elizabeth felt her heart constrict on behalf of the old guy. Oliver was one of the more pleasant residents she had encountered during her last few weeks of employment, and his misery at his own confinement in the residential home was almost palpable every time she entered his room.

"I'll stop by before the end of my shift," she promised, pleased when the old man smiled in evident delight, "just don't tell the boss or he'll have my head on a platter."

"It'll be our little secret," Oliver promised with a chuckle, winking as Beth nodded her head and stepped out into the hallway with an amused smile breaking out across her lips.

With the promise of company imminent, Oliver settled down into his chair with a sense of contentment beginning to wash over him.

**x-x-x**

She slapped her hand hurriedly over her thigh when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket and, as she cast a cautious glance up and down the vacant hallway, she slipped into the linen closet.

The young blonde sighed irritably as she swept her eyes over the name flashing repeatedly across the screen, and she flipped the phone open with her other hand planted impatiently on her hip.

"What did I tell you about calling all the God-damn time?" she hissed, wincing as she heard footsteps outside.

"Hey, dial it down a notch, Nurse Jackie," the male voice replied, traces of amusement colouring his tone, "I'm just calling to say 'Hi' to my girl."

"No," she whispered in response, "you're calling to check up on me, Dean."

"I'm hurt," Dean sniffed, feigning dejection, although in the next instant Jo heard clearly the crackle of a chip packet as its contents was pillaged.

"Yeah, yeah. What do you want, Dean? I'm kind of busy here!"

'Beth' tapped her foot on the floor, flattening her tongue against her upper lip as she awaited a convoluted reply.

"I'm... bored," Dean answered honestly, taking a moment to bite down on a chip, "so... whatcha doin', Harvelle? You learnt how to give a sponge bath yet?"

"What have I been doing?" Jo Harvelle repeated, "uh... I've been spat on, peed on, pooped on, cursed at, and propositioned by a 94 year old guy five times in one hour."

Dean cleared his throat, evidently uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, "Yeah... aside from that."

"Next time, YOU go undercover," she insisted, brown eyes blazing as she imagined how their mornings had compared. She could hazard a guess that Dean's had involved slightly less bodily fluids and decidedly more diner waffles.

"Hey, it's not my fault this case has been such a bust," Dean retorted, his smile apparent in his voice as he continued, "I'd much rather you be here giving me a sponge bath."

Despite her mild irritation, Jo rolled her eyes and smirked, leaning back against the shelves of towels and sheets with the phone tucked under her chin. The current case had been one that Bobby had insisted they work, much to their collective chagrin. After receiving a call from an old friend whose elderly mother had suddenly developed dementia and subsequently died in just a fortnight, Bobby had begun to poke around in the medical records of the Cedar Wood Retirement Home and discovered fifteen other such deaths over the course of a year. Although Dean, and surprisingly Sam also, had both dug their heels in at the prospect of the job, Bobby had been relentless in his harassment and, once he had threatened to roll himself into a dilapidated SUV and work the case himself, the Winchesters had finally caved. Instead, they had left the crippled old hunter to hold down the fort at the roadhouse, and sulked all the way to Florida about his inherent ability to force them into doing exactly as he wanted. Initial investigations had unearthed little in the way of evidence, and so the hunters had decided that this was one case that could perhaps benefit from a more subtle approach. Bobby had managed to pull a few long distance strings, securing Jo a temporary position as a Recreational Therapist, and it had been agreed that they would remain close by for a few weeks in the hopes that whatever nasty was responsible for the deaths would rear it's potentially ugly head.

Whilst Jo braved the terrifying world of geriatric care and all it entailed, Sam and Dean had holed themselves up in a nearby motel to sift through research articles regarding similar cases, and watch endless amounts of cable- or so Jo suspected.

"Well, play your cards right honey, and you never know what's in your future," Jo replied, her voice a teasing purr that succeeded in drawing Dean up straighter in his chair. She chuckled aloud, imagining the look of hungry anticipation now spread across his features.

There was a momentary lull in conversation, and Dean could be heard hissing something in a low tone, his palm cupping the speaker and muffling the exchange. Jo waited patiently, grinning as she thought she heard the term 'buttmunch' bandied about.

"Sammy's bitchin' at me to talk business," Dean stated as he returned to the call, his voice a growl, "so… any old dudes croak yet?"

"Nope," Jo shook her head as she spoke, momentarily forgetting that Dean could not see her, as she added, "although if Jerry grabs my ass again, he won't live to see his morning prune juice."

Dean snickered as two thoughts entered his head in tandom; the strong desire to break the amorous senior's wrist, and simultaneous awe at his surviving libido.

"Well I'm real glad you're amused," Jo snarked, her tone more upbeat as she continued, "he kind of reminds me of you, actually. It's like Dean Winchester in sixty years time; grabbing at the poor nurse's ass whilst you pee through a tube and drink your juice from a sippy cup."

"Nah," Dean deflected her teasing with an audible grin, "I'll still be grabbing your ass, sweetheart."

"Hmmph," Jo snorted with amusement, hearing Sam once again begin to mutter about Dean's waning powers of concentration.

"Anyway, I gotta go," Jo announced, glancing at her watch as she sighed heavily, "there's chairobics in the lobby at 3pm."

"What, that like Jane Fonda stuff for the wrinklies?" Dean demanded, shaking his head at the imagery it conjured.

"Bye Dean," Jo replied through muffled giggles, snapping the lid of her cell closed without bothering to wait for a response from her boyfriend. She slid the phone back into her trouser pocket and gripped the door handle, resting her ear against the grain in order to listen for any hallway loiterers before she slipped out of her hiding place. The care home had a strict no cell phone policy, and Jo had already been chewed out by the tyrannical manager several times for other nonsensical 'offences', including one resident's vehement dislike of a tapioca pudding that ended up in the lap of a fellow patient. Occasionally, the work seemed akin to caring for toddlers, and Jo had found herself on more than one instance debating how the beginning and end to one's natural life appeared markedly similar.

She walked at a brisk pace towards the dayroom, the largest room in the building which housed the only properly working television set, a rickety pool table that none of the residents were fit enough to make use of, and a stack of outdated magazines that were yellowing at the corners.

Jo sighed as she scanned the sadly dilapidated room, and out of the corner of her eye, a dark coloured item caught her attention.

Edging past a table of partially completed jigsaw puzzles, Jo hooked the label on the dark blue sweater onto her finger. 'Oliver Tucker' was sewn neatly into the white tag positioned on the neckline. She folded the garment hurriedly, laying it over the back of an armchair, and made a mental note to pick it up once her scheduled visit with the old man rolled around. With a sigh, Jo tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, and started towards the craft cupboard tucked into the corner of the room, stealing herself for a riveting afternoon of decoupage, paint by numbers and chairobics.

**x-x-x**

Over recent days, Sam Winchester had taken to carting round with him a leather bound notebook that had scarcely left his person. It was an unfamiliar item, stuffed full of extra papers that poked out from the bottom, straining the elastic band holding the pad closed. Sam even refused to abandon the book when he visited the bathroom, almost as though he felt vulnerable without it.

Naturally, Dean was intrigued by the article that his brother had begun to trot around like a security blanket, and the nature of the contents of the book had started to gnaw at him. Sam, however, remained tight lipped about the secrets he guarded, refusing to either leave the book abandoned where Dean may happen upon it, or to so much as open the cover in his presence. Once or twice Dean had walked into a room as Sam was poised with a pen above the open pages, but in each instance he had been quick to slam the book closed before Dean was able to catch even a fleeting glimpse. A few times, the idea of stealing into Sam's room at night in order to leaf through the pad had crossed his mind, but Dean would not have put it passed his brother to sleep with the thing under his pillow, and so it was that he had resolved to do the most unnatural thing to him; and to simply talk to his brother.

"What's in the book, Sammy?" demanded Dean, not even glancing at Sam as he paused to kick off his boots before reclining on the motel bed. His cell lay on the mattress at his side, still in the same position he had abandoned it in a half hour ago when he had finished up his third call of the morning to Jo.

"I've been checking out our family tree," Sam stated, his brow furrowing as he stared down impatiently at the laptop that was perched on the desk in front of him.

"Okay," Dean nodded, still confused by Sam's secrecy over something so seemingly mundane, "so what's with all the cloak and dagger stuff? You've been carrying that thing round like a bible. What gives?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed as he blew air out through his cheeks, "I guess I didn't want Jo reading it. Like I told you in Kansas, I wanna check out what happened to great-grandma Winchester, and..."

"You're still on about that hokey curse crap?" Dean interjected, seemingly unconcerned about the issue that had been dominating his brother's thoughts for the past few weeks.

"I think it's a real possibility, Dean. I don't... I just..." Sam began, staring down at the keyboard as he said softly, "I couldn't stand to see it happen again. I don't want Jo to wind up like Mom and Jess."

Dean cleared his throat and arched an eyebrow defiantly, although he was touched by his brother's concern for his girlfriend.

"I'm not letting anything happen to Jo. You got my word on that. I-I... you know..." he coughed self-consciously. The telltale tingling sensation upon his cheeks caused him to turn from his brother's line of vision until he was certain the embarrassing pink hue had faded from his skin.

Sam smiled slightly and rolled his eyes at his older brother's ineloquence, "I know, Dean."

"You uh... you find out anything?" Dean probed, his curiosity now getting the better of him despite his protestations. Sam sat back in the desk chair, shrugging vaguely.

"Maybe… it's difficult to tell," Sam replied, his expression giving nothing away.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" demanded Dean. He sat up on the bed, ignoring the pain that needled at his lower back as a result of the lumpy mattress. Sam clasped his hands in his lap and regarded Dean with the same annoyingly impassive expression; it was obvious to Dean that his little brother was punishing him for his reluctance to support his theory, but he elected to ignore Sam's determination to be difficult.

"Well, obviously there's Mom's death in '84," Sam started, hesitating as Dean flinched at the mention of the tragedy that had claimed his childhood, and indeed set the wheels in motion for the rest of his life. "Before her, there was Grandma Carolyn Rose Winchester. She died the summer after Dad turned nineteen. There's a bunch of newspaper articles about it all, mostly local press. Jack was away on business, Dad was at a friend's house, and Carolyn was alone in the family home when a fire broke out in the kitchen. Carolyn's body was found in the lounge. She'd died of smoke inhalation. It was almost like she hadn't bothered to escape… just sat there and breathed the fumes in. The coroner's report ruled accidental death."

"Okay, well... what about before her? What happened to great... great-great..." Dean shook his head as his brain failed to compute the finer details of their family tree.

Sam shrugged and narrowed his eyes as he scanned the county records archives. Dean blanched as he noted the state archives that his sibling was paying special attention to.

"Ohio? I thought Dad's family were from Kansas?"

Dean glanced furtively at his cell phone and contemplated sending a text message to Jo, although he assumed his continued attentions would not be met appreciatively.

"Sammy?" Dean clapped his hand down onto Sam's shoulder, as the youngest Winchester failed to reply, seeming captivated by the news story that now filled the screen. The print was dark and blurred, yet Dean could make out a photograph of what appeared to be the ruins of a large building.

"1929?" Dean's brows furrowed as he bent his head to read the headline of the newspaper - 'Clinic Fire Kills 123'.

Rubbing his chin somewhat impatiently, Dean straightened up and began to pace the floor behind Sam's chair, his hand lingering over the back of his neck where he could feel a knot beginning to form.

"Please tell me that's not..." he began, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly.

"Great-Grandma?" Sam peered up at his brother and nodded slowly. He continued despite the grimace his brother now wore, "Alice Winchester died in 1929 in the infamous Cleveland Clinic fire. The fire supposedly started in the basement when an exposed bulb got too close to the nitrocellulose x-ray film."

"But that was a total accident, right?" Dean demanded, crouching down at Sam's side and wrenching the laptop from his brother's grip before he set about scrolling through the article. His eyes widened as he drank in the details.

"As far as the officials were concerned," Sam replied evenly, one eyebrow arched as he watched Dean's carefully composed demeanour begin to crumble. "But it's an awful big coincidence, don't you think? That's four generations of Winchester women that we know of that have died in suspicious fires."

"No, no way, Sammy," Dean all but snarled, slamming a balled fist down on the desktop and causing the laptop to jump several centrimetres into the air.

"Face the facts, Dean," Sam stated in a raised voice, his gaze imploring Dean.

Dean shook his head firmly, his lips set into a firm line as he stared back at his brother.

"Yeah, well, there's a fly there in your logic ointment, Sam," he growled, "because Jessica wasn't a Winchester."

"She would have been," Sam said quietly, his eyes ticking to the table top in front of him and staying there. Dean swallowed audibly, regretting both his anger and his subsequent outburst, but most of all the mention of the one thing he knew was capable of reducing his brother to a shell of himself.

Sighing regretfully, Dean sat down on the edge of the bed and planted his hands on his knees. "Look, all I'm saying is, Mom and Jess, we... we know that was Azazel, and we also know that was because of Mom's deal. Yellow Eyes had nothing to do with our family before that."

Sam licked his lips and shut the lid of the laptop with a decisive nod, "No, but how do you explain the other two fires, huh? Four generations, Dean."

Dean climbed to his feet and folded his arms across his chest in a defensive stance. Though he was trying to remain the voice of reason, the grisly family history that his sibling had uncovered was making him antsy.

"Come on... over a hundred other people died in that Cleveland fire. Report says she was a nurse, and she got trapped by falling debris. Mom and Jess, they... they died alone."

Dean bowed his head as the words left his lips, and he avoided Sam's gaze for fear of finding the haunted expression he knew must now be reflected in his brother's eyes.

Dean swallowed hard and continued, "Nobody else died with them, Sam. That hospital thing was a totally different M.O. It's history, you know?! It... just happened."

Sam blinked and shook his head as if he had misheard.

"It just happened?" he repeated incredulously, "that's your explanation for all of this? 'It just happened?'"

Dean floundered, his mouth gaping as he attempted to speak, but found a further explanation evaded him.

"Look," Dean began, hoping he had perfected his 'diplomatic' voice. He held his hands up in a pleading gesture, "I know you still miss her."

Sam remained silent, and simply bobbed his head as his brother continued.

"But dude, don't make this about Jo, okay? Dean implored gently, his heart pounding beneath his chest as his mind began to work overtime around Sam's insinuation.

Standing from his chair, Sam turned to regard his brother and simply offered him a sad smile.

"That's the thing, Dean," he replied gravely, "what if it already is?"

**x-x-x**

Wandering absently down the hall, through her fatigue, Jo managed to recall her manners enough to muster a grin at a passing orderly, followed by a tellingly tight smile directed at the manager currently hot on his heels and chewing him out.

The man had the social skills of Hitler, and Jo had untold sympathy for the many nurses and various other staff members who had spent the past few years under the balding, pot-bellied tyrant's reign.

Jo clutched Oliver's old sweater to her chest, her fingers stroking the felted wool somewhat absently. His room was the second door on the left, the only room now occupied in the east wing of her floor, and usually the sound of old rock and roll music would be permeating the hallway. Jo frowned at the silence that greeted her, and extended her hand to knock twice on the bedroom door.

Oliver made no attempt to reply so Jo slowly edged into the room, her heart pounding at the sudden rush of medical emergencies that came to mind.

"Mr. Tucker?" she called uncertainly, relieved beyond reason to find Oliver sitting with his back to the door, as he let his hand drift across the photograph frames on his dresser.

"You forgot your sweater, I thought I'd..." Jo began, pausing as the man eyed her quizzically.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" he inquired, smiling weakly as he peered with obvious confusion at his surroundings.

Jo's smile waned, and she took another tentative step into the bedroom, discarding the sweater on the bed before moving to stand in front of the wheelchair.

"Sure you do," Jo stated, feigning a bright tone so as not to alarm the man, who appeared to be agitated as he wrung his hands in his lap. "It's me… Elizabeth. We had a date this evening, remember?"

His expression blank, Oliver turned back to the row of photographs, squinting as he peered at the faces looking back at him. One afternoon, he had taken the time to tell Jo the names of every family member depicted in the grainy black and white images, regaling her with stories about each one of them that were etched as clearly in his memory as though they had happened only yesterday. The uncertainty that now stared at Jo was most definitely not the product of old age.

"I just can't… recall…" Mr. Tucker muttered, more to himself than to the strange woman who he now found himself in the company of. He rubbed one hand across the top of his head and was surprised to find it bald, letting out a tiny gasp. Distress stretched his features into a taught mask, and Jo dropped down onto her knees in front of the old man, clutching both of his hands in her own.

"Don't you worry about a thing, Oliver," she said vehemently, her brown eyes wide and searching the man's weathered face for even the faintest spark of recollection. Jo let out an inward groan, wondering how she had allowed this to happen.

"Oliver…" he repeated, "is that my name? I just can't recall."

Jo searched the room for any signs of a struggle, or the attack she knew must have recently taken place. Yet the room remained undisturbed and filled with an eerie stillness.

Sighing out loud, Jo crouched down and placed her hand over the old man's, and offered him a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, we'll figure this out... I promise."

Oliver simply nodded meekly, and his eyes continued to rise and fall over the images of his loved ones that were lined up around him on the table.

Whilst a medical reason for Oliver's sudden and abrupt memory loss would need to be ruled out, Jo was almost certain this was the latest in a spate of attacks at the home; attacks by some otherworldly creature that had left otherwise fit and healthy residents in a state of advanced dementia.

Jo glanced down as she felt Oliver squeeze her hand, but the light and life had all but disappeared from his eyes, his most precious memories lost to him now.

The creature had claimed another victim.

**x-x-x**

Dean's head whipped up as the door of the motel room swung open, striking the wall and revealing a furious Jo Harvelle upon the threshold. Wisps of her blonde hair had escaped the confines of her French braid and were standing on end about her face, and her chest heaved from the effort of breathing. Her eyes blazed and her nostrils flared as she stormed into the bedroom, pushing up the sleeves of the white cotton shirt she wore beneath her scrubs.

"Jo…" Dean began, falling silent as Jo turned a furious glare upon him.

"I screwed up," Jo snarled, not bothering to utter a greeting to either of the Winchester brothers, the younger of whom looked up from the stack of papers he had been immersed in.

"What happened?" demanded Dean, suddenly all business as he straightened up from the mattress he had been reclined across for the past few hours as he watched one embarrassing daytime soap after another.

"I messed up," Jo repeated with a shrug, her anger at her perceived failure palpable. "The new guy I told you about? His brain's Swiss cheese now too. Just like the others."

Dean and Sam both wore similar frowns of confusion, but it was Sam who broke the silence.

"And... you didn't see anything suspicious? No smells? Or... or some kind of ectoplasm? Weird lights? Orbs? Uh..."

"Not a newbie here, Sam," Jo snapped, cutting him off mid-sentence, "and no, nothing suspicious or out of the ordinary."

"Jo, it's not your fault," Dean stated, holding up his hands in surrender as she rounded on him, about to speak when he added emphatically, "and we still don't know what the hell we're even hunting here. None of us know what to look for."

Jo closed her mouth, seeming to think better of arguing, before sinking down into a nearby chair with her head in her hands.

"I should have done something," Jo said quietly, her eyes downcast. Sam and Dean exchanged looks, before Dean moved almost cautiously over to his girlfriend and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. With a thin smile, Jo reached round and rested her hand atop Dean's, beginning to circle the pad of her thumb over his skin.

"It happens sometimes," Sam said sympathetically, knowing just how seriously Jo had taken the current undercover job where she was surrounded by the elderly and vulnerable.

"That poor old guy," she lamented, heaving a sigh as she kicked off her pumps and leaned back in the chair. "You should see the way they're writing it off at that place… acting like he was seven shades of crazy when he came in."

"You sure he wasn't?" Dean checked, lowering himself back onto the edge of the mattress and ignoring the sour look that Jo directed at him.

"Positive, okay?" she retorted, pulling her hair free from the elastic band that contained it, and beginning to comb her fingers through the loose waves. "The guy couldn't stop talking about his wife and kids yesterday… today, he doesn't even remember his own name."

"Sounds like our creature's M.O." Sam agreed, raising his pen to his lips and beginning to chew on it absently.

"Now only if we knew what the hell our creature is," Dean grunted.

Dean patted the edge of the bed beside him and held out a hand to Jo to beckon her over.  
>She moved grudgingly from her seat and sat on the side of the mattress as Dean angled his body behind her and began to knead her shoulders and neck.<p>

"Go take a shower. Sammy and I will crack the books again, see if Bobby can give us a heads up about what we're dealing with here," he placated, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck as she nodded at his suggestion.

Craning her head, Jo turned and placed her palm to Dean's cheek before leaning up and brushing her lips against his in a silent 'thank you'.

Dean watched her climb to her feet and his gaze followed her to the bathroom doorway, as she paused and turned to address Sam.

"Sam?" she called out uncertainly, wincing as Sam glanced up from his laptop and widened his eyes expectantly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry I snapped at you before," she said quietly, fiddling with the hem of her scrub shirt as she met his gaze.

Sam's lips curved into an easy smile, and he shook his head to dismiss Jo's apology.

"I'm used to being around Dean... it's fine," Sam replied, ignoring the indignant glare directed towards him by his brother, who dug in his jeans pocket for his cell phone once again as Jo retreated into the motel bathroom. The sound of the lock sliding into place and the subsequent running water alerted them that Jo was indeed taking Dean's advice.

"I guess I'll just keep researching," Sam said quietly, glancing at Dean as he raised the cell to his ear. After a few moments, the call was obviously connected, and Dean began to launch into conversation with the hunter at the other end without bothering to so much as utter a greeting first.

Closing the journal in front of him with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Sam stabbed the power button on his laptop and prepared to set aside his fears for the moment in favour of research of a more agreeable nature, to his brother at least.

**x-x-x**

The images played out on the makeshift screen- an entire white wall that was illuminated by the scenes flashing across it. Smiling faces turned towards the watching figure, but there had been no camera to speak of; just the eyes of a man who had treasured every last memory as it was made.

The figure in the armchair plunged his hand into the enormous bowl of popcorn that perched at his side, laughing as he watched a little girl taking a tumble as she struggled to master the art of walking. A pair of masculine hands shot out to catch her, and she was righted once again, a look of determination set upon her chubby face.

Digging his hand into the vast bowl of popcorn once more, the man shoved a handful into his mouth and chewed voraciously.

The images flickered, creating a furious white flash against the darkness of the room as they emerged directly from the forehead of the man, almost as though his entire cranium was acting as a projector. Yet it was the deep red glow of his eyes that cut most noticeably through the darkness.

Raising his hand toward the wall, he waved his fingers in a sweeping motion through the air, and immediately a host of images sped across the screen. Summer 1953 became Winter 1960, and an entire life story unfolded.

The creature crossed his legs and chuckled with glee as he watched a Christmas morning begin, and a dark haired toddler dived into a box with a squeal of excitement. The image panned up to a mirror mounted above a heavily decorated fireplace and, there surrounded by his wife and children, the face of a young Oliver Tucker was reflected.

**Authors' Note - Hey guys! Thank you so much for all your recent reviews. Service should slowly be resuming as normal. We have a new fic up, entitled Jar of Hearts, which was a submission earlier this year to a charity compilation. We'd love some love, as always. Also, we are beyond excited to say that we will be attending Asylum 9 in London this coming November, so if anyone here will also be coming along and would like to meet up, drop us a PM. **


	23. Chapter 23

_**Episode 8 – Part 2**_

'_**Meet Jo Blank'**_

_**x-x-x**_

Smiling sweetly, Jo held the door wide in order to allow the two men clad in dark blue overalls to enter the foyer. The taller of the men dragged a cleaning cart behind him, which squealed and groaned in protest, whilst the other wielded a mop carried over one shoulder.

The Winchesters certainly cut fine figures in their matching get-ups, which Jo had lifted the previous shift from the janitor's closet, and she could not resist slyly grabbing at Dean's rear as he passed her by. His back stiffened at the contact, and a smug grin spread across his lips, although he continued down the hallway without acknowledging Jo in the slightest.

Following Oliver Tucker's sudden and inexplicable descent into the throes of advanced dementia, the hunters had drafted a plan whereby Sam and Dean would gain entry to the building in order to cover more ground. With an EMF metre tucked into his breast pocket, Sam nodded at Dean before turning off in the opposite direction to his brother as they reached the end of the corridor. Dean paused, casting a glance over his shoulder and catching Jo's eye.

Whilst Sam headed off to complete a sweep of Oliver's room, Dean strolled languidly down the hallway, whistling the chorus of a rock song as he tried to look as inconspicuous as possible.

Jo watched as Dean cast a careful glance up and down the hall, before pulling a small metal object from his pocket, which he used to deftly pick the lock of the file store room.  
>Tossing the mop inside, Dean slipped into the room and propped the door with his foot, waiting for Jo to catch up with him.<p>

Repeating Dean's previous check of the hall, Jo followed after him, ignoring the puff of air that left her boyfriend's chest as she slid past. Dean smiled to himself and shook his head, attempting to dispel the inappropriate thoughts and even more inappropriate stirrings their contact had provoked.

As the couple had once again been forced to share a room with Sam, their more amorous activities had come to a sudden halt for the past two weeks, and a heavy tension hung between them.

"So, what exactly are we looking for here?" Jo checked, not entirely sure why they were standing in a room that seemed to house a hundred random artifacts from the past five decades.

Old TV sets stood abandoned beside faded paintings, their broken frames propped against discarded walkers and wheelchairs. Stacks of clothes lay on a nearby table, and there was an indistinguishable mustiness in the air that made everything smell as ancient as it looked.

"You got me," Dean replied with a shrug, watching as Jo turned her back and hopped up onto a half size step-ladder.  
>"Nothing up here but about forty years of dust," she said wrinkling her nose as she traced a finger across the thick layer of grime coating the top of the shelving unit.<br>"Uh-huh," Dean nodded, clearly distracted by the view in front of him. He found himself grinning lasciviously at the sight of his girlfriend's shapely rear, which was teasingly close to his face.

"Quit staring at my ass, Winchester," Jo directed, rolling her eyes as she turned to face him with what she hoped was her most disapproving glare.  
>Dean's face was a pantomime of innocence, and he jammed his hands in his pockets as he ducked his head, shying away from Jo's quirked brow and challenging stare.<p>

"You know," Dean began, taking a step suddenly towards the step ladder and reaching up in order to fasten his hands around Jo's waist, "it's kind of quiet in here."

"Yeah," Jo observed cheerily, slapping Dean on the chest as she added, "perfect conditions for a stakeout."

Dean peered up at Jo with a tellingly hungry glimmer present in his eyes, and Jo watched as a grin bloomed upon his lips. The tip of his tongue poked out, moistening his lips, and his expression became almost pleading.

"Come on," he purred in a husky tone, "don't say you're not tempted."

"Dean," Jo warned, her voice stern although her expression indicated that she was indeed entertaining the same naughty ideas that currently plagued Dean's mind. Leaning forwards in a deliberately slow manner, Dean brushed his fingertips across the hollow of Jo's cheek before pressing his lips against her own. Jo melted into his touch, swallowing a groan of frustration as Dean cupped her rear with the palms of his hands and pulled her flush against his body.

"Dean..." she protested half-heartedly, rapidly losing the power of speech as he dragged a path of kisses down her throat and she found herself hurriedly pressed up against the wall.

A nearby painting was caught with the tip of Jo's foot, as Dean hoisted her up from the ground, and her legs wrapped around his waist as their hips frantically found a rhythm against each other through layers of clothing.

They gasped for air as their lips parted, and Jo fumbled with the buttons on Dean's overalls. She sighed impatiently as her fingers refused to cooperate, and the warm, questing hand that slipped under her shirt only increased her frustration.

"Can't..." she gasped, her breath hitching as Dean untied the waist of her scrub pants, and her stomach muscles dipped as his fingers brushed her abdomen, "can't get this damn thing off!"

"Well, thank heaven for small mercies," a nasal voice declared from the doorway, which Dean and Jo turned to face simultaneously wearing similar expressions of horror and shock. The hunters had apparently been too immersed in their make-out session to hear the door to the storeroom swing open, and had also failed to note the light from the hallway filtering into the darkened space. On the threshold stood her manager, his eyes almost wide and his jowls quivering as he regarded the two apparent staff members locked in the most inappropriate of clinches.

Jo closed her eyes momentarily, cursing under her breath as she planted her feet on the floor and turned to regard the manager of the care home. She slapped quickly at Dean's hand, which was still positioned beneath her shirt, and felt a rush of blood to the apples of her cheeks. The man averted his gaze for a few moments, allowing the couple time to straighten their rumpled clothing and preserve the little modesty they had managed to retain.

He jabbed a finger at Dean, his already piggy eyes narrowed to slits, and snarled, "You. Get back to work. There's a leaky toilet in the second floor communal bathroom."

Dean nodded dumbly, directing a glance at Jo before he retrieved the mop he had earlier discarded and skirted around the manager, back out into the hallway. Jo dropped her gaze to the floor, struggling to remind herself that this indiscretion truly didn't matter.

However, she found herself swallowing hard when the man rounded on her, demanding sourly, "And I'll see you in my office, young lady."

**x-x-x**

Jo folded her arms across her chest as she watched her boss pace in front of his desk. Lance Robinson had been talking non-stop for the past ten minutes, and his voice had started to fade out into little more than an annoying blur.

Jo was vaguely aware that the phrase "inappropriate behaviour" had been bandied about more than a few times, yet she found herself caring less and less as each excruciating second passed.

"So?" Lance demanded, drawing up level to her and raising both eyebrows expectantly, "what have you got to say for yourself, huh?"

"Uh... I'm sorry?" Jo tried, narrowing her eyes at the glare her boss rewarded her with.

"And?"

Jo paused, wracking her brain for the correct response for being caught in a compromising position by an employer who wasn't really your employer, when you possessed a fake job and a fake name.

"And... it'll never happen again?" she finished, sighing in relief as he nodded and then appeared to look her up and down in a slightly predatory manner.

"You're damn straight it'll never happen again, or your ass is out that door, you hear me?" he bellowed, spots of saliva beading on his lower lip as he ranted.

Jo nodded, folding her hands in her lap and surveying the manager analytically for a moment. Lance peered back at her, his eyes still blazing, and he sneered visibly at Jo.

"Are you waiting for something?" he demanded, reaching into his shirt pocket and withdrawing a handkerchief, which he used to mop at the sweat on his brow.

Shaking her head, Jo hurriedly climbed to her feet and started out towards the door of the office, relieved that the confrontation was over and she would be able to return to searching for evidence. However, on instinct, she paused at the doorway of the office, her hand on the doorknob, and turned back to Lance, who was seated behind his desk as he crammed indigestion pills into his mouth. He growled low in his throat as he felt Jo's eyes still upon him and he glared at her across the room.

"Why are you still here?" Lance barked, leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as though her presence brought him actual physical pain.

Jo's lips drew into a tight line and she skirted out of the door and closed it behind her with a gentle click. Glancing down at her watch, she noted it was almost time for her lunch break and, for once, the prospect of dining on the less than palatable cafeteria food was a welcome one.

Sighing resolutely, Jo started off toward the locker room. A shadow loomed from behind a doorway in the hall, and Jo paused as she stepped back against the wall and watched the figure move closer.

Stepping uncertainly from the room, the nursing assistant cast his gaze up and down the dimly lit hall before he strode out of the bedroom, hands jammed in his pockets and head bowed.

Jo watched intently, hiding behind a large laundry cart until the man's footfalls had drifted out of earshot.

When she was certain that the corridor was deserted once again, Jo moved to the doorway from which the man had made his exit, and peered around the jamb. Immediately, she spotted the figure of Grace Ferguson, tucked neatly into her bed and apparently sleeping soundly. The woman had arrived at Cedar Wood the previous afternoon, and Jo had identified her almost instantly as one of the more lucid residents. Upon the woman's waking, Jo would be eager to see if the same were still true.

With her suspicions regarding the unknown nursing assistant building, Jo turned towards the locker rooms and disappeared inside. She had taken to leaving her wallet in her assigned locker ever since it had been filched from her person on her first day by the wandering hands of a somewhat senile 80 year old man. She entered the combination quickly, throwing the door open as soon as the lock clicked. Jo ran her hand lightly over the bottle of holy water positioned on the top shelf and moved it aside in order to reach her hand further into the back of the locker. Along with the holy water, Jo had also squirreled away an iron knife, a silver letter opener, a large bag of salt, and a crucifix, hoping that she had covered all of the usual bases. Although the hunters still had no idea as to the species of the creature they were stalking, or indeed what weapons it would be impervious to, Jo had been careful to sneak onto the premises a multitude of items that she could utilise as weapons if it proved necessary.

Jo paused as suddenly and inexplicably the hairs on the back of her neck stood erect, and a familiar chill drifted down her spine. Taking a slow, deep breath, Jo spun around, surprised to find nothing and nobody behind her. The room was silent, yet the overhead strip lighting flickered as if heralding the arrival of something otherworldly.

Jo waited a few moments; her body tensed in anticipation but despite the air of unease that had descended upon her, nothing happened.  
>"Damn it," she muttered under her breath, clasping the handle of the knife firmly in her hand as she prepared to slip it into her pocket. Slamming her locker closed with an irritable huff, Jo turned on her heel and sought the exit, ready for another afternoon of scintillating arts and crafts, and Hallmark movies. Next time, Dean or Sam could go undercover and she would be the one on research duty or, in Dean's case, eating copious donuts and sending a barrage of faintly humorous or outright filthy text messages. Jo smiled at the idea of the latter, recalling their few short minutes in the store room that afternoon. Maybe when she got back to the motel they could send Sam on a conveniently timed beer run.<p>

Her breath caught in her throat however as from behind a figure suddenly loomed over her.  
>A split second before she turned to face her attacker, a hand landed on the top of her head, and Jo Harvelle's world faded to black.<p>

**x-x-x**

Sam had been forced to grip the dashboard of the Impala so tight that his fingers had numbed on the ride to the hospital. After hanging up his cell, Dean had barely allowed Sam time to fling himself into the passenger seat before he had thrown the stick into gear and swung out of the motel parking lot at such speed that the tyres shrieked in protest. Neither of the brothers wore their seatbelts and so Sam was forced to white-knuckle the whole journey, although the majority of his concern was reserved for Jo.

They covered the ten mile distance in record time, and Sam was thankful that they had managed to avoid happening upon a cop car on the way. Dean barely wasted time locking the Impala before he was running up the steps of the old, stone building two at a time, not caring whether Sam was following in his wake or not. The younger Winchester had wisely chosen not to utter a word since the phone call had come, knowing too well that anything he said would be open to misinterpretation, and would more than likely only ignite Dean's flammable temper.

It had been nightfall before the Winchesters had finally realised that something was amiss. After failing to return to the motel, despite her shift having ended several hours ago, Jo had also neglected to answer the numerous messages Dean had left on her voicemail. The receptionist at Cedar Wood had revealed, when vigorously questioned, that nobody had seen Jo since the beginning of the lunch break, and Dean had immediately descended into panic. They had been busily pouring over a map of the area, scouting out separate routes by which to search for the missing member of their party, when Dean's cell had trilled ominously, signifying an incoming call from an unknown number.

When they reached the reception desk, the post was deserted, and Dean began rapping on the counter in order to draw attention to their presence. A sour faced, middle aged woman waddled out from behind a filing cabinet and affixed the brothers with an irritated look.

"Can I help you?" she enquired with an air of undisguised annoyance as she chewed slowly on a wad of gum that poked out from between her lips.  
>"My girlfriend..." Dean panted, exertion finally catching up with him, "you called me, said she was here."<br>The woman sighed and sat down at the desk, "I'm gonna need a name..."  
>"Jo... Beth..." Dean shook his head, suddenly realising that Jo had been using an alias whilst working at the retirement centre, "Elizabeth Williams?"<p>

The receptionist quirked an eyebrow and shrugged, "Second floor, room 219."  
>Dean gaped around the reception desk, glancing up at the ceiling and the numerous signs hanging from it, "Which is where?"<p>

Without looking up from the computer screen, the receptionist blew a bubble of pale green gum and sucked it promptly back between her teeth.

"Take the elevator up to the second floor then follow the green signs to the psych wing."

"Thank you, ma'am, you've been a real help," Sam stated dryly, shooting the receptionist a pointed glare before following after Dean, who was already at the elevator shaft and pounding on the button to summon it.

"Dean, calm down, dude," Sam almost pleaded, resting a large hand on his brother's shoulder. He realised that Dean was trembling from head to toe, and so Sam gently squeezed the shoulder he held in a gesture of silent reassurance. Dean peered up at his brother, and Sam could immediately see that the ghosts of the past were alive in his eyes.

"Why won't this damn elevator come?" Dean demanded, his voice sounding raw. No sooner had he spoken than the doors slid open, and both brothers piled into the shaft alongside a couple of doctors wearing scrubs and with surgical masks suspended around their necks. They each shot surreptitious glances at Dean as he bounced on the balls of his feet, watching the elevator climb at a torturous pace. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the doors opened onto the second floor, and Dean stalked down the long, impossibly white walled hall.

"Sign says the psych unit is this way..." Sam directed, nodding up at one of the signs on the wall. Dean simply stormed off ahead, causing Sam to jog along to catch up with him.

"What the hell's she doing in the nuthouse, Sammy?" he demanded, his heart hammering in his chest. He glanced up at his sibling with wide eyes, his fear palpable. "You think this thing got her too?"

Sam shook his head, following Dean down toward a set of locked doors which the older Winchester began to hammer upon with a balled up fist. A nurse instantly appeared- her demeanor none too pleased at her visitor's impatience.

"Yes?" she barked, eyes blazing.

"My girlfriend... Beth Williams, I want to see her," he said, his tone both demanding and yet also pleading. The nurse sighed and opened the door, gesturing for Dean and Sam to enter.

"We have some questions for you, Mr..." she fished, waiting for Dean to provide the name she was anticipating.

"Nicholson..." he stammered, his eyes roaming the halls of the unit, as patients wandered around in their pyjamas in what appeared to be varying degrees of awareness.  
>"Does your girlfriend have any pre-existing medical condition?" she inquired, leading Dean and Sam down the hall toward one of the rooms.<br>"No, nothing. Where is she? Is she okay?" he demanded, licking his lips which had become impossibly dry.

The nurse tactfully avoided his question. "Does she have a history of mental illness? Depression? Substance abuse? Maybe drugs or alcohol? Any history of psychosis?"  
>"No," Dean shook his head angrily, repeating with renewed insistence, "is she okay?"<br>The nurse folded her arms across her chest and gestured into the room they had now stopped outside of.

"Mr. Nicholson, your girlfriend was brought into the ER with absolutely no long or short term memory. It if hadn't been for the cell phone and ID we found in her pocket, we wouldn't even know her name. She's scheduled for a CAT scan in the morning but there seems to be no sign of a recent head injury or trauma. We're waiting for her blood work and toxicology screen to come back, but physically... we can't find anything wrong with her. I'll send Dr. Morgenstern in once he's finished up with another patient, I'm sure he'll be able to answer any questions you might have."

Dean appeared not to have heard a word she said, as he stared at the figure sitting upright in bed.

Jo sat motionless, peering blankly down at her hands. The gown she wore was standard hospital issue, and her usually buoyant blonde curls hung limply about her face.

Sam smiled in thanks at the nurse, hoping to speed up her departure, "Thank you."

The woman nodded before she bustled back down the hall toward the nurse's station, her thoughts now preoccupied by the tall latte waiting for her at her post.

Dean shot a helpless glance at Sam, who had focussed his attention upon Jo. She appeared not to have noticed the two men now standing on the threshold of her room, too immersed in her own world to pay them any mind.

"It got her," Dean said, his voice sounding flat. "Damned son-of-a-bitch got her."

"We don't know that yet," soothed Sam, wincing as Dean rounded on him, although his anger was considerably tamped down.

"She's not crazy, Sammy," he hissed, stabbing one finger in Jo's direction, "and that in there is seven shades of crazy."

He continued, beginning to pace the floor in front of the doorway as he ticked the issues off on his fingers, "We don't know what this thing is, how to kill it, or even if this can be reversed."

He seemed to visibly deflate, his eyes moistening as he regarded Sam and added hollowly, "I don't know what to do."

Sucking in a sharp breath, Sam recognised the immediate need for him to take control of the situation. Striving to maintain the air of a kind of calm he did not feel, Sam seized Dean by both shoulders and stared deep into his eyes.

"We go in there and we talk to Jo, because she needs us right now, even if she doesn't know it," Sam said determinedly, leaving no room for argument with his measured tone and arched brow. "Maybe she'll remember something, maybe she won't... but we hold it together and we do our best to fix this with the knowledge we have."

Dean nodded, attempting to compose himself as he stepped uncertainly into the room.

"Jo?" he called softly, not wanting to startle the young woman.

"I..." she blinked, glancing up and looking at him with an unfamiliarity in her eyes that all but broke Dean's heart. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

Dean floundered, apparently frozen to the spot. Sam smiled kindly at Jo and gestured to his brother and himself in turn.

"I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean, we're... we're old friends of yours," he stated, wincing as she shook her head and her eyes flitted to each of the men's faces.

"I'm sorry, I don't know you," she said fearfully, her eyes glistening with tears as she added, "I guess I don't even know who I am right now."

"Maybe we can help?" Dean suggested, nodding toward the chair beside her bed before he slowly sat down. Her hands lay folded in her lap, and Dean resisted the urge to reach out and cover them with his own.

"We're really friends?" she asked, holding his gaze and managing a weak smile as she scrutinized his face. A sudden jolt of recollection struck her, and Jo found something oddly familiar in the stranger's eyes.

"I guess you could say you're my best friend," he murmured softly, his tone tinged with an emotion that she was unable to decipher.

"How do I know... I mean..." she sighed, shrugging as she struggled to form the question weighing on her mind, "how do I know you're really who you say you are?"

Dean watched her wring a balled up tissue in her hands as she struggled with this newfound information. The overhead lighting caught the diamond band on her finger, and he gestured toward the ring with a wistful smile.

"There's an inscription in that ring... Latin... 'In Aeternum'."

He watched as she slipped the ring from her finger with a shaking hand and, holding it up to the light, rolled it between her thumb and forefinger, examining the tiny scrolled cursive inside.

"How did you..." she began, gasping as she accidentally dropped the ring and it fell onto the pale blue bed covers.

"Because I gave it to you," he replied, retrieving the piece of jewellery from its lodgings in a crease of the bed linen and offering it to her in his open palm. Almost hesitantly, Jo accepted the ring and slid it back onto her finger, struck by the sense that it was somehow so very important to her.

"Why don't I remember?" she whispered helplessly, affixing Dean with a wide eyed stare that caused his breath to catch in his throat.

"We're working on it, I promise," Dean vowed, leaning forwards and holding Jo's gaze with his own. "I swear to you, we'll fix this."

"But what if I'm sick... what if..." she began, her panic evidently escalating as she glanced back and forth between the brothers. Sam shook his head and hurriedly closed the door of the room with a quiet click before moving to the edge of the bed and peering down at Jo.

"I know this is a lot to ask," Sam said, his tone soft and coaxing, "but can you trust us? Just for a little while?"

Jo shook her head, and her vehemence on the matter was obvious. Although his manner was gentle, Sam could cut an undeniably imposing figure, and Jo watched him keenly all the while as if her capacity to trust had been shattered along with her memories. Dean swallowed down his frustration and tentatively reached out a hand towards the woman, who watched as the tip of his index finger brushed against the back of her right hand.

"Please," Dean begged earnestly, dropping his voice to barely a whisper as he continued, "we would never hurt you. You just have to take a little on faith here, sweetheart."

Jo appeared to think this over before she suddenly lifted her gaze to Dean, her chin tipped back in a challenging manner.

"Prove it," she demanded, a hint of sport tainting her tone and giving Dean cause to smile despite his current state of panic.  
>"How can we?" Sam said with a frown, continuing logically, "I mean, even if we tell you things, you won't remember if they're true or not."<p>

But Jo appeared undeterred, and she continued to stare expectantly at Dean. The older Winchester suddenly nodded.

"Alright," he said, appearing all too eager to rise to the challenge. "You've got three freckles on the top of your thigh... right leg, looks like they make up a triangle."

He gestured down beneath the sheets, smirking as he recalled having traced invisible lines across her skin with the tips of his fingers. Jo raised both eyebrows, clearly pondering whether to check. Sam dutifully turned his back whilst Dean swivelled around in his chair to allow her some privacy.

"You uh... you've got a couple of scars too." He swallowed at the memory of Carthage and blew out an unsteady breath, "Three lines, left side... just under your ribs. They've pretty much faded now, but... they're still there."

Jo blinked, processing the information before checking if they were watching her. Satisfied they had turned their gazes away, Jo pulled back the neckline of her hospital gown and peered down at her body. The scars lay exactly were Dean said they would be, and she traced her fingertips over the angry raised lines, wondering how they had come to mar her skin.

"How did I...?" she asked quietly, peeking beneath the covers and locating three small, dark, perfectly round freckles on her upper thigh that indeed formed a perfect triangle.

"You wouldn't believe us if we told you," Sam assured her, still turned to face the door.

"You got your cell phone in here?" Dean asked, eyes suddenly sweeping the room.

"Uh... I think they put my things in the drawer," Jo said as she nodded toward the nightstand.

Dean did not await her permission and quickly fished through the drawer, producing Jo's cell phone which he placed on the bed beside her. Flipping his own phone open with a flick of his wrist, Dean punched in Jo's number and, as if on cue, her phone began to vibrate in her hand. The chorus of an REO Speedwagon song filled the air.

A soft smile curved her lips upwards and she appeared to relax visibly, clearly deciding that she could perhaps place her trust in these men after all. She stabbed the disconnect button and turned her gaze expectantly upon Dean, who was wearing an expression of utter hopefulness.

"Ok," she said quietly, picking at the frayed edges of her blanket again. "What do you need me to do?"

**x-x-x**

Try as she may, Jo recalled nothing about the motel room that the two men ushered her inside of. She walked uncertainly into the centre of the room and spun a circle, her eyes taking in everything from the two loaded shotguns sitting atop the nightstand to the explicit photos of crime scenes spread out across one of the twin beds.

Jo swallowed hard, and her eyes darted to the door as she watched Sam slide the bolt into place, blocking her only route of escape to her. Panic flooded her and Jo backed up against the desk, only stopping when the back of her thighs connected with the edge of the wood.

"Maybe... maybe this wasn't such a good i-idea..." she stammered, her eyes ticking to the weapons and the photographs once again. Dean followed the path of her troubled gaze and groaned internally as he realised their mistake. He had been so eager to shepherd Jo in from the car and avoid the attentions of the other motel guests in the process that he had forgotten completely that the bedroom would require a little careful spring cleaning before it was fit for the eyes of a civilian.

"It's okay," he held his hands up as he skirted around the bed and carefully closed the folder, "it's kind of what we do. You too, actually. Guess you could call it a...family business."

Jo's eyes widened and she stared aghast at her boyfriend.

"What? she squeaked, her expression all too clearly conveying her misunderstanding, "killing people?"  
>Dean chuckled despite the situation, and he shook his head with a smirk. "No sweetheart, we save 'em."<p>

Jo's brow furrowed and she appeared confused by his reply. "From what?"  
>Dean licked his lips and debated the merits of telling her the truth versus making up an appropriate story that would not send her running for the hills. "Just uh... stuff. Bad stuff."<p>

Jo cocked her head as she pressed curiously, "Like what?"

When his imagination failed to conjure up a suitable cover story, Dean only shrugged his shoulders and resolved that perhaps distraction was the key.

"Oh, hey... this is yours..." he stated, handing Jo her purse and nodding down toward it as he deposited the army green canvas satchel onto her lap, "thought maybe you might remember something?"

Jo shrugged, instantly beginning to rifle through the bag, scattering across the bed a heap of discarded Kleenex packets, pain killers, a flick-knife, an emergency sewing kit, and a wallet.

"Wow. Guess I like to be prepared for everything, huh?" she mused.

"Yeah, you're a regular girl scout," Dean quipped, pausing awkwardly as he found his hand reaching out impulsively to brush a lock of hair back behind her ear.

"Sorry," he said quietly as she shrank back from his touch. He stole a glance over toward Sam, who was busily regaling Bobby with their current dilemma in the hopes he would be able to offer a solution.

"So, you really think you can fix this?" Jo inquired, emptying a stack of cards out of her wallet and running the tip of her index finger over the surface of each one. She noted the numerous aliases, and the fact that in her possession she seemed to have an identification card that suggested she was a part of the FBI as well as a forest ranger. She frowned and fanned the cards out in front of herself, arching an eyebrow.

"I certainly hope so," replied Dean, watching Jo somewhat uneasily as she picked through the contents of the purse.

"How come there's a ton of different names on these?" Jo finally demanded, shooting a challenging glare at Dean, "and how come the hospital told me my name was Elizabeth but you keep calling me Jo?"

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but in the next instant there was an audible flutter of wings and Castiel appeared at his side, wearing his usual trench-coat and stoic expression combination.

"Dean... Joanna," Cas said gruffly in greeting.

Jo's mouth fell open and she stared at Cas, blinking hard as though her eyes were playing tricks on her. Dean sighed, gesturing to the man beside him as Jo seemed either ready to scream or else descend into a catatonic state.

"But you... you... you weren't here... and now... now... you are," Jo babbled, jabbing her finger in Castiel's general direction, "I... I..."  
>"Jo, this is Cas," Dean relayed, as if making introductions over canapés at a cocktail party, "Cas is an angel."<p>

Turning to address his friend, Dean paused as a heavy, sickening thud and a high pitched sigh interrupted him. Castiel stared down at Jo's unconscious form with a quizzical expression affixed upon his face. Sam glanced up from his phone call only long enough to work out the source of the disruption before he returned his attention to Bobby.

"Joanna is unwell?" Cas queried, watching Dean carefully lift his girlfriend from her new position on the floor and lay her down gently on the bed.

"You could say that," Dean retorted wryly, running his hands through his hair as he tried to calm the nervous tension that was rolling in the pit of his stomach. "This thing we're hunting? It got Jo, and now she's gone all Jason Bourne. I want this fixed, Cas. I want my girlfriend back, so you get your ass up there and you find out what this thing is and how we fix Jo, okay?"

Castiel blinked, glancing aside as he shook his head, "I'm afraid I do not understand. Jason Bourne?"

Dean groaned loudly in exasperation, stalking around the bed as Jo's eyelids began to flutter open once again, "You're so freakin' annoying sometimes, Cas, you know that? Get the hell out of here, and figure out how we fix my girl!"

Castiel looked between Dean and Sam, the latter of whom was pacing a proverbial trench in the floor as he spoke more animatedly than was usual on the phone. Deciding a hasty exit was in his best interest, Castiel nodded in compliance as Jo leant up on her elbows and groggily surveyed the room.

"I will return when I have news," Cas stated, suddenly disappearing from view once again with a similar rustling sound.  
>A strangled sigh left Jo's lips and, for the second time, her body fell limply back against the mattress, and her eyes rolled in her head.<p>

"Awesome," Dean muttered, beginning to pat Jo's cheeks in an attempt to rouse her from unconsciousness for the second time in as many minutes. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

**x-x-x**

He had only to wade through several memories before he had realised the true identity of the woman posing as 'Elizabeth'. The fact that she was a hunter, and descended from a long line, was apparent the moment he watched the memory of a five year old girl being taught to wield a shotgun by a man in a leather jacket who smelled faintly of gunpowder and salt.

When he watched the man's shrouded body burning on a funeral pyre, surrounded by a sea of stony faces, he learned the woman's true name; Joanna Beth Harvelle. He scrolled through the remaining memories at speed, his blood running cold in his veins as he was subjected to image after terrifying image of the woman dispatching of his supernatural brethren.

However, he slowed down when he reached the last several years, which featured the emergence of new faces and potential companions. This worried him more than he cared to admit.

He sped past images that would usually have kept him engrossed - long, passionate clinches and escapades that brought a blush to his cheeks - and instead brought the past few weeks into focus.

A cheap, rundown motel suddenly flickered into view, betraying the location at which the trio were currently hiding away, biding their time.

The creature dug his hand into the bag of pretzels beside him and chewed thoughtfully, pausing to lick grains of salt from his lips.

Rising from his seat, he decided that a change of plan was now most definitely in order.

The hunters were coming for him, it was only a matter of time; so perhaps now, he would pay them a little visit.


	24. Chapter 24

_**Episode 8 – Part 3**_

'_**Meet Jo Blank'**_

_**x-x-x**_

Jo was eyeing Dean with a level of suspicion he was unaccustomed to, and it was fast wearing thin with the frazzled hunter. After three solid hours of research, Dean slammed the ancient tome before him closed, and raked one hand through his hair. They had been holed up in the motel room since springing Jo from the hospital, he and Sam alternating between research and a possible monster ID, and attempting to jog Jo's memory with pictures, familiar objects, and some less colourful stories from the past. Sam figured that anything referencing demons or hell-spawn was probably not okay, whilst Dean seemed to deliberately steer into such territory, hoping that the recounted memories would perhaps prod the dormant hunter lying beneath the surface back into consciousness.

The sigh Dean let out was telling, and the subsequent glance he shot at Jo's sleeping form signalled to Sam that he had all but admitted defeat for the night. Dark circles ringed Dean's eyes, and his mouth opened wide as a yawn overwhelmed him.

"You can hit the hay, man," Sam offered, breaking the silence that had descended ever since Jo had dropped off half an hour ago. "I'll keep at it for a while and see what I can turn up."

Stirring from what was clearly a troubled sleep, Jo propped herself up slowly on her elbows and cast Dean a weary glance. For some reason she seemed more at ease with Sam, a fact that was causing Dean no end of irritation.

"Hey sleeping beauty." Dean greeted her with a smile, sighing as Jo stared up at him and managed only a brief nod of acknowledgement.

"Just... using the bathroom," Dean said, holding up his hands as he skirted around her and closed the bathroom door behind him with an exasperated slam.

"Sam?" Jo began uncertainly, pulling the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands as she hugged her arms around herself and shuffled across the room.

"Uh... yeah?" Sam lifted his gaze from the laptop and waited for Jo to perch on the chair opposite him.

"Can I ask you something?" she lowered her gaze to the scratched surface of the table and began to run her fingertip around the rings that marked the wood.

"Sure, I guess," Sam frowned, wincing sympathetically as he regarded the woman, "I know this has got to be hard on you, Jo, but... we're doing all we can to figure it out. Dean won't rest until you're..."

"About Dean..." Jo began, glancing up hesitantly at the bathroom door, "he seems... kind of edgy all the time. Like, angry?"

Sam blew out an uneven breath and bobbed his head as he quickly mulled over her character analysis, "No, that's just how he deals with stress. Dean uh... Dean likes to channel the Tasmanian Devil before he deals with what's bothering him."

Jo frowned, twisting her lips contemplatively, "Doesn't that make him kind of an asshole?"

Sam snorted with laughter, but quickly leapt to his brother's defence, "Dean can be a total pain in the ass sometimes, but... seriously, Jo, he's a great guy underneath that... asshole like exterior, and, you gotta know, there isn't a thing he wouldn't do for you."

Jo nodded, managing a brief smile as she rubbed her hands together and picked at loose threads on the sleeves of her sweater.

"We're happy?" she asked, glancing up in confusion as Sam laughed out loud at her question.

"Shocked the hell out of all of us, but... yeah," Sam grinned, thinking back on Dean's illustrious dating past, and how surprised they had all been, given Jo's similar temperament, that the relationship appeared to be working out.

"You seem... I mean..." Jo began, babbling as she gesticulated wildly with her hands and paused, unsure of how to continue.

"I seem?" Sam fished, his brows now furrowed expectantly.

"Well, how does a guy of your... uh... lifestyle choice... even get in to hunting, anyway? Just seems kind of unlikely."

Sam shook his head as if not understanding as he repeated, "My lifestyle choice?"

Jo's head snapped up as Dean's spluttering and subsequent laughter could be heard from behind the bathroom door, and Sam's cheeks suddenly burned hot and crimson.

"No!" he exclaimed, shaking his head emphatically, "I'm not… I mean… no… not that there's any… I mean… that's not a bad thing but…"

"Oh God," Jo cried, her eyes widening as she recognised her error, and Sam's cheeks flushed all the more. He merely shook his head, offering her a tight smile, before his gaze plummeted back to the laptop in front of him.

"I should get back to work," Sam explained, clearing his throat and narrowing his eyes as he listened to the sound of Dean's continuing laughter. Grumbling under his breath, Sam tapped at the keyboard with a little more vigour than was truly necessary.

"I didn't mean…" Jo began, her eyes impossibly wide and her hands fluttering in front of her chest.

"It's fine," Sam replied, his lips pressed into a smile, "really."

The bathroom door swung open and Dean strolled back into the bedroom, clearly lapping up Sam's embarrassment. His eyes gleamed as he shot a look at his brother, mouth opening in preparation to birth a sardonic comment.

"Just… don't…" Sam warned, rolling his eyes and shaking his head without so much as glancing at his brother. Obediently, Dean closed his mouth, although his disappointment at having his attempts at wit foiled was evident.

Pulling out the rickety dining chair beside Jo's, Dean turned it around and sat astride the seat. Jo watched him closely, noting the nervous and thoughtful expression that had settled on his admittedly handsome features.

"Look, Jo..." he began, clearing his throat as he picked at the strap of his watch and tactfully averted her gaze. Jo smiled a little uncertainly, feeling an odd spark of recognition rise up from the pit of her stomach as his green eyes settled on her face.

"I know I come across as kind of a jerk sometimes and... I'm sorry. I guess I just feel a little helpless right now and, I just want you back," he shrugged lamely, managing a smile as his eyes focused intently on hers.

Slowly and almost nervously, Jo reached out toward him and let her hand flutter onto his arm.

"I wish I remembered you," she lamented, sighing as he nodded in response and placed his hand gently over hers.

"We'll figure it out, I promise," he vowed, although the nervous flutter in his stomach betrayed his confident exterior.

Sam watched the exchange from behind the screen of his laptop. He had to admit that in the months since his brother and Jo had been together, Dean's emotional range had increased beyond his wildest expectations. Now, for Dean to be facing the prospect of having to rebuild the foundations he had laid with Jo, who was essentially a different person, was just heart breaking for Sam to consider.

He tapped away relentlessly at the keyboard, entering keywords into the Google search bar to seemingly no avail. Bobby had been able to turn up very little that could offer a potential ID on the monster, or a way to kill it, and was now in the process of calling round his contacts in the hopes that their collective experiences in the field could prove useful. Sam refused to even contemplate the thought that they would not.

It was as he was immersed in his lamenting that his cell phone began to vibrate at his side, jumping several inches off the desk it perched on, and sending the chorus of the generic techno ringtone reverberating around the motel room. Jo started, and Dean almost leapt on top of the phone, although Sam beat him to it by a hair's breadth.

"You got something?" he panted, not bothering with the customary 'hello'. He realised, too late, that he had not even bothered to check the screen to see if the incoming was actually from Bobby. Indeed, Sam's heart sank as an unfamiliar voice replied.

"Maybe, but you ain't even gonna bother with a little 'howdy' first?"

"Is that… is this Garth?" Sam inquired, his tone half incredulous as he considered the likelihood that the slightly inept, gangly, and overly enthusiastic Texan hunter would be calling his cell with potential info that would actually prove useful.

"The Garth is on the line," the voice confirmed, deadly serious in its conviction. Sam glanced down askance at the cell phone in his hand, but shrugged before returning it to his ear. Dean had drawn closer now, his interest and desperation both peaked, whilst Jo had preoccupied herself with skimming through a glossy women's magazine that she had discovered at the back of the bedside table.

"Good to hear from you, man," Sam stated, wasting little time before he continued, "did Bobby call you?"

"Yeah, I had a call from the ol' man," Garth replied, pausing momentarily. Sam strained to discern what had stolen Garth's attention, and was somewhat irritated when he heard the distinct sound of potato chips being crushed between eager incisors.

"He'said…" Garth mumbled through a mouthful of chips, pausing to swallow, "he said… his girl was in trouble. I didn't think Bobby Singer had any kids?"

Sam rubbed his forehead as he winced and shook his head, "Not exactly, but... as good as, I guess."

"So," Garth began, now all business like as he imparted his wisdom in a smug tone of voice, "sounds to me like you boys have found yourselves a Memoladro."

"A memory thief?" Sam translated, briefly calling upon the semester of Italian that his room-mate had talked him into taking as an elective.

"And how do we kill it?" Sam asked, picking up one of their heavy supernatural tomes, and beginning to flick through it as he realised he had never heard of such a creature.

"Basically, you stab it between the eyes with something pointy," Garth relayed, "the weapon of choice is really your call, but... I like to go old-school, whittle myself a good, trusty stake, and..."

"Not really sure we have time for whittling," Sam said, allowing for a small smile, "okay, so... we kill it, and..."

"And the memories it's sucked out of all your good folks up there will be returned… provided they're still alive. Badda bing , badda boom."

"What? What's he saying?" Dean interrupted, shaking his head and sighing irritably as Sam swatted him away from the phone.

"What do you mean… provided they're still alive?" Sam repeated, his features clouding with worry. He turned his back purposefully on Dean, fending his brother off with one arm as Dean made a grab for the cell phone.

"Well, when the Memoladro sucks in your memories, it somehow speeds up the aging process. Although the result can't be physically seen, inside your body starts to thinking it's a hundred and changes real quick," Garth replied, his tone still slow and easy, despite the fact that Sam was grunting now with the effort of holding Dean at bay.

"Give me the god-damned phone, Samuel," Dean roared, ignoring the glare that his brother directed at him with the use of his scarcely mentioned Christian name. It was a sure sign that Dean was full throttle pissed, but Sam was determined not to relent to him, as he knew that knowing the full details that Garth had revealed could only drive his brother to distraction.

"You ok, Sam?" Garth checked, although sounding unconcerned in actuality.

"Awesome," Sam managed through clenched teeth as Dean grabbed a fistful of his hair and attempted to yank his head backwards. He placed a large palm in the centre of Dean's face and pushed his brother backwards, although Dean put up a valiant fight. Luckily, Jo had disappeared into the bathroom only seconds after Sam had answered the call, and appeared to be taking her time.

Finally, Dean stomped down on Sam's exposed foot, crushing the toe on his right foot mercilessly. Sam let out a yell, and Dean swiped the cell phone, raising it to his ear with a victorious grin. Sam spewed an impressive and seemingly endless stream of curse words, but Dean turned away from his little brother unconcerned.

"Garth? It's Dean," he stated, running one hand through his hair in order to smooth it back into place, "talk to me, man."

"Hey, the Deanmeister!" Garth crooned, an audible grin making Dean grimace, "s'up my man?!"

"How do we kill this thing? And what happens to the people it's... sucked on?" Dean demanded, obviously seeing no time for exchanging pleasantries.

"Like I just told your bro, bro, you just gotta stab it between it's baby blues. Am I not making myself clear here?"

"Crystal," Dean replied curtly, only just remembering to thank their fellow hunter before he flipped the cell phone closed and tossed it onto the nearest bed.

"Okay, saddle up, Sammy," he announced, reaching for his leather jacket from the back of a chair, "we gotta go bash us some brains in."

"Whoah, whoah, whoah!" Sam halted his sibling's plans for the moment, and shook his head in disbelief. "You think charging in there without a plan is the best idea, Dean? We don't know what this thing's capable of, let's just..."

"No!" Dean interrupted, "you can 'phone a friend' again Regis, but I'm going, with or without you."

"Don't be a fool, man," Sam argued, licking his lips as he struggled to quickly formulate an argument that would halt Dean in his tracks. Seeing the glower that his brother shot at him, Sam swallowed hard.

"I'm done talking about this," Dean replied, shrugging his jacket onto his shoulders and grabbing up the Impala keys that rested in a crystal dish on a table next to the door.

"Dean…" Sam called out as Dean swung the door open and stepped out into the night air.

"What?" he snarled, poking his head around the door and frowning at Sam, who gestured to the still bathroom. From within the sound of running shower water could be heard.

"What about Jo?" Sam asked quietly, deliberately keeping his tone low so as not to be overheard by the still skittish blonde. "We can't just leave her here, and we sure as hell can't take her with us."

"You're right," Dean relented, stepping back into the room and closing the door behind him. "We need a sitter."

"A sitter?" Sam repeated, staring askance at Dean, "dude, she's not five. She'll totally kick your ass for suggesting it."

"No," Dean corrected, shaking his head sadly, "our Jo would kick my ass… the woman in there… she doesn't remember how to be that person."

Dean halted on the threshold of the motel room, his keys hanging indecisively from his fingertips.

"Okay, so... what are we gonna do here? We can't take her with us," he reasoned, realising that in her current state, Jo could not possibly take care of herself and would doubtlessly be freaked out by the supernatural being they were preparing to face.

Sam shrugged, standing as he grabbed his jacket and gestured toward the room around them, "We can always leave her here?"

Dean sighed, mentally weighing up the pros and cons of his sibling's suggestion before coming to a swift resolution. Crossing the room in barely two strides, Dean knocked gingerly on the bathroom door and stepped back in surprise as a fully clothed, yet freshly showered Jo greeted him.

"Yeah?" she eyed him warily, folding her arms across her chest in a defensive gesture that made Dean's heart constrict.

"We're uh... we're heading out to go and take care of this... thing," Dean began, eyebrows raised as Jo interrupted.

"The thing that did this to me?" she enquired, chewing on her bottom lip as her expression became vaguely hopeful, and then tinged with deep seated concern.

"Okay, but... I mean, are you sure you know how to... deal with it?" she asked, wondering why a growing sense of trepidation and concern for the man before her was starting to pool in the pit of her stomach.

"We've got a pretty good idea," Sam replied, glancing out into the parking lot through the open door and scouting around the area. The parking lot was deserted save for the Impala and the manager's car.

"Will you be ok here… on your own?" Dean checked, ducking his head a little as he spoke to Jo, who he noted did not lean away from him this time. She hesitated and then nodded.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," Jo said, her voice quavering a little in betrayal of her nerves. She winced as Dean glanced sharply at her.

"You sure?" he checked, adding quickly, "cos we can call Castiel down here and…"

"That guy that goes poof?" Jo demanded, her eyes immediately widening. She shook her head vehemently and spluttered, "N-no thank you!"

Dean nodded, before he crossed the room and stopped short in front of Jo's bag. He unzipped the side pocket and reached inside, wordlessly withdrawing something that was wrapped in an old oil rag. He approached Jo cautiously, drawing the cloth back from the blade of the silver hunting knife. He half expected her to shy away as he approached with the weapon in his hand but, much to Dean's surprise, Jo extended one arm and brushed her fingertips across the blade of the knife. She squinted as she read the initials carved into the hilt aloud.

"W. A. H.," she murmured, the letters prickling at her memory. She closed her eyes and shook her head, wrinkling her nose in frustration as the memories seemed to dance just out of her reach.

"Don't worry," Dean comforted, offering Jo the knife, "we'll fix this, I swear."

"Okay," she nodded, watching as he recovered the blade and placed the carefully wrapped knife into her open palm.

Jo faltered, smiling self-consciously as she peered down at her feet and a flush of pink suddenly coloured her cheeks.

"I feel like I should tell you to be careful?" she began, powerless to thwart the smile that tugged at her lips as Dean looked vaguely pleased with her admission.

"Always am," he answered, winking at her before he hesitantly bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Jo stilled, closing her eyes at the gesture, and sighing at the faint touch of his fingertips upon the apple of her cheek.

Dean nodded over toward her cell phone on the nightstand, "You need us, you call, okay?!"

Jo glanced between Sam and Dean before she added with a nervous laugh, "Maybe next time I see you guys... I'll remember you?"

Silently, Dean closed the motel room door behind himself, and watched as Sam led the way to the waiting Impala. More than anything, he hoped that Jo was right.

**x-x-x**

As the sleek, black car swung out of the parking lot and careered around the bend, he watched from behind the wheel of his own SUV. Droplets of rain began to splash onto the windscreen, but he did not bother to turn on the wipers as he started the engine and approached the entrance to the parking lot at a crawl.

He was hesitant, to say the least. Ordinarily, he would never approach a hunter, but these people had caught wind of him now, and he knew that his card was marked. There was nothing else to do.

As Lance climbed out of the car, grumbling at a pesky stab of sciatica pain that ricocheted through his body, he found himself faintly repentant at what he was about to do. Really, he wasn't a bad guy. He just had needs, like everyone else.

Raising one pudgy hand to the door of the motel room, Lance rapped sharply and awaited an answer.

**x-x-x**

Keeping his flashlight trained low to the ground, Dean swept the beam carefully down the hall, his body tensed as he and Sam made their way steadily toward the manager's office in pursuit of their mark.

The tall, shaggy haired cleaner stumbled down the dimly lit hall, trailing his hands along the wall rail as he appeared to be chanting under his breath.

"What the hell is that? Klingon?" Dean glowered , a nervous trepidation bubbling up from the pit of his stomach.

"Beats me..." Sam replied in a whisper, both hunters suddenly flattening against the wall as an orderly hurried out of a room and toward the nurse's station. The vibration of his phone against his thigh brought Dean to a sudden halt and, as he fumbled to retrieve it from his pocket, they momentarily lost sight of their suspect.

"Son of a bitch," Dean hissed, the icon on his phone screen alerting him to the fact the signal had now died

"Where'd he go?" he demanded, squinting to see in the dark.

"In there," Sam directed as on cue a series of bangs and crashes resounded from the darkness of the manager's office. Swallowing hard, he murmured, "On three?"

Ignoring any pretense at a countdown, Dean promptly kicked the door open, the hinges giving way to the assault and shards of wood flying through the air. The startled scream of the cleaner met their ears almost immediately.

"Holy shit!" the man yelled, leaping around in fear as he danced in the beam of light Sam shone in his direction, desperately searching for an escape.

"Don't move," Dean commanded, training his pistol at the cleaner, who now appeared to be weeping openly as he glared at the weapon.

"I'm sorry, man… I swear to Vishnu I'm sorry…" he called, breathing heavily as he looked from Sam to Dean and back again.

"Yeah, well sorry just isn't gonna cut it, bud," Dean snarled, releasing the safety catch on the pistol and squinting as he took aim at the creature's skull.

"Oh God no!" the cleaner yelped, running both hands through his messy hair and groaning. "I swear… it's only a little pot… I'll tell you everything… just… just don't hurt me, man."

"Dean…" Sam said, his voice low in warning. "I don't…"

"Quiet, Sammy, you're throwing my aim off," Dean replied, his tone dripping with fury as he struggled to find his target.

"Dean!" Sam repeated, this time more insistent, "look at his eyes, dude. He's loaded but I don't think he's our monster."

"What?" Dean demanded, glaring at Sam before whipping around once more to stare at the cleaner. The man's eyes were red rimmed and his pupils appeared to be impossibly dilated.

Dean's jaw set, as he appeared to reconsider his options, and he nodded over at the cleaner who was staring back at him.

"You a memory sucking monster?" he demanded gruffly.

The cleaner looked momentarily thoughtful, and his tone betrayed his confusion as he stammered, "N... No?"

Dean sighed heavily, flicking the safety catch on his gun and lowering the weapon from view.

"Hey, uh... hey man, you got any snacks?" the cleaner asked hesitantly, beaming inanely at the simultaneous glares he received from the siblings. He dug his hands in his pockets and swayed unsteadily from side to side.

"Get back to work," Dean directed, gesturing toward the door with the gun still in his hand.

"Yes sir," the young man readily complied, hustling toward the door as he released a series of relieved breaths.

"And don't do drugs," Dean commanded as an afterthought, pointing almost in warning at the man.

"Please don't tell my boss, like... that dude is scary, man. He's got like these googly eyes and... and... I kind of think he reads minds, you know?" he drawled, his voice somewhere between fear and awe.

Sam's brows raised in response, and he bit back a smirk as he watched the man poke incessantly at the side of his head as if to illustrate his point.

"Hey, Keanu... You wanna get the hell out of here?!" Dean shook his head in disapproval and slid his gun back into the back pocket of his jeans.

Nodding almost good naturedly, the man sauntered off out of the office, all pretences of cleaning the space having clearly been forgotten, as were the presence of the two men with guns. Sam and Dean rolled their eyes in perfect unison, the latter slamming his balled up fist against the wall in frustration as he realised that they were fast running out of time.

However, Dean's heavy handed action had succeeded in disturbing a shelving unit, and he turned sharply as a collection of DVD cases tumbled to the floor. Sam crossed the room in a few strides and bent to scoop up the evidence of intruders to the office. Each plastic case was blank, save for a label on the spine containing names written in black marker pen. Sam froze as one particular name caught his eye, and he raised the case to face height to examine it at closer quarters.

"What was the name of the old guy that had his memories stolen? The one Jo was so upset about?" Sam pressed, something in his voice urgent. Dean frowned, scratching his forehead as he struggled to remember.

"I dunno, dude… Oliver something?" Dean said slowly, his nose wrinkled by the effort of concentrated thought.

"And what was the alias Jo was going by?" Sam probed, climbing to his feet with the stack of boxes in his hand.

"Elizabeth Williams," Dean replied without missing a beat. "What's with the 20 questions?"

"Dean..." Sam said gravely, handing over the DVD case that seemed to have been the newest addition to the collection.

Dean read the familiar name on the label with a sinking realisation and, moments later, the case dropped to the floor with a clatter as both hunters ran through the corridors and towards the waiting Impala.

It seemed that this time, the monster had hunted them.

**x-x-x**

Jo sat back against the doorframe, crouching down with her head in her hands as she continued to listen to the soft, persuasive tones of the man on the other side of the door. Despite stating several times that she could not recall her old job or boss, her visitor continued to talk through the door some ten minutes after his arrival.

"Beth? Come on honey, I'm just here to talk. I wanted to check up on you, make sure you're okay."

Jo groaned, scrolling through her phone to find Dean's number again and hitting 'call' with trembling fingers. This time the dial tone greeted her and seconds later a familiar, urgent voice crackled from the speaker.

"Jo? You okay?" Dean demanded hurriedly, and Jo winced as the knocking on the door vibrated through her body as her visitor became more insistent.

"Elizabeth? I know you're in there!"

"There's some guy outside," Jo hissed, "says he's my boss. But... I don't know, something doesn't feel right, Dean, I think... I..."

She gasped as he beat louder against the wood, and her eyes darted to the knife laying in the centre of the bed. Glancing behind her to the door, Jo inched across the floor and reached for the blade, which was still wrapped within the cloth.

"We'll be there in two minutes, don't open the door!" Dean stated, leaving little room for argument.

"Wasn't planning on it," Jo hissed in a whisper, although by the time she had managed the words the dialing tone was all that resounded in her ear. Jo sat with her back pressed flush against the end of the bed, and tucked her knees into her chest. She rested her chin atop her knees and encircled her own arms around herself, allowing the knife to remain on the floor by her feet.

"Ok, I can see you don't want to talk," the man finally called out, his violent assault on the door ceasing abruptly. "I'm going to go, but can you at least get whoever you're staying with to call me and let me know you're ok? I was beside myself with worry when I heard."

Jo remained quiet, her breathing noisy and uneven, and her heart hammering out an unfamiliar rhythm in her chest.

"Goodnight then," her boss stated, before Jo heard the sound of footsteps making their way back towards the parking lot. She heaved a sigh of relief, momentarily allowing her eyelids to flutter closed as she sagged against the bed frame. For several moments, Jo sat that way, her heart struggling to slow to a more normal pattern, and her eyes watering in a telling manner.

"Get it together, Jo," she whispered to herself, beginning to clamber to her feet as she reached for the cell phone once more in order to alert Dean to the fact that the potential danger had passed, and she had perhaps made something out of nothing after all.

However, her relief was short lived as, from the en-suite came the distinctive sound of glass shattering and, the next moment, the bathroom door flew off its hinges.

"Now look here," Lance shouted, stalking across the room toward a shell shocked, wide-eyed Jo, "you and I have got some unfinished business, missy..."

"No we don't," Jo croaked, as she scrambled to her feet and concealed the knife behind her back whilst backing up against the door of the motel room.

The chain had been drawn across, and she knew in the time it would take to try to unlock and unlatch the door, Lance would easily be able to apprehend her.

Lance sighed, shaking his head sadly as he shrugged as if to convey his own unease with the situation.

"I don't like this anymore than you, Jo..." he smiled as she appeared shocked at his use of her real name, "come on, I know what you are."

"What... what are _you_?" Jo asked, swallowing down the tremor in her voice as she tried to buy some time. Hopefully Dean and Sam would be arriving imminently to save the day. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had the vague feeling that she hated playing the damsel in distress. But in that moment, the arrival of the two hunters would be more than welcomed.

Lance threw his hands up, chuckling as he added, "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with all these labels society imposes on us, and whilst I applaud your transparent attempts at chit-chat, I'd really like to just move things along here, if that's okay with you?! "

Jo's mouth dropped open as a bright white light emanated from what appeared to be a third eye that emerged in the centre of the man's forehead. Jo watched in sickened horror as his puckered skin parted, unveiling the previously concealed eye, which blinked at her profusely.

"This won't hurt a bit, I promise," Lance soothed, moving towards Jo with one pudgy arm outstretched towards the crown of her head.

Jo let out an uncharacteristic shriek and ducked underneath Lance's arm, throwing herself towards the unmade bed. Lance let out a tsking noise and shook his head, his expression irritated as he spun around to confront Jo once again.

"Don't make this difficult," Lance almost pleaded, taking a step towards Jo, who hurriedly shook the hunting knife free of the oil rag. She brandished it at the creature bearing down on her, her arm trembling uncontrollably. Lance eyed the weapon and shook his head, apparently weighing up the pros and cons of attempting to challenge Jo. A sly smile slid across his lips, and he proceeded to move towards the hunter.

"I'm guessing you don't remember how to do this…" Lance mocked, chuckling and wiping at his brow in mock relief as Jo took a step backwards and almost tripped over her own feet.

"D-don't be so sure," Jo stammered, thrusting the knife at the creature as though to punctuate her threat.

Lance sighed dramatically, casting a glance at his watch, "Okay, look sweetie, I appreciate the whole 'feisty blonde' thing, I do, but... my Netflix arrived in the mail this morning, and it's been a long day, I..."

The creature's weary words were interrupted by the motel room door splintering free from its hinges to reveal two decidedly angry looking hunters, both brandishing shot guns.

"Jo!" Dean shouted, wincing in disdain as he looked at the blinking, rolling third eye that was now firmly affixed upon him from deep inside the creature's forehead.

Jo breathed an audible sigh but although a sense of relief had started to overcome her, anger was now also bubbling to the surface. Before Lance had a chance to react, Jo's jaw set and she raised her knee, landing it hard in Lance's groin.

Lance gasped in pain, his hands suddenly clutching at the injured area, and both Sam and Dean grimaced in momentary empathy. Jo noticed with satisfaction that all three of the man's eyes were now watering.

With the knife handle clutched in her hand, she raised her arm toward Lance's head.

"Get OFF of me!" she shouted, kicking out at him once again and effectively blocking a punch he hurriedly attempted.

The Winchester brothers reached her side a split second too late, and the sickening sound of metal meeting flesh punctuated Jo's furious yelling.

Lance's body dropped to the ground in a crumpled heap, and his head fell heavily upon Dean's boots as the hunter stared frantically between the dying creature and his shaking girlfriend.

All three eyes grew impossibly wide and both hands clawed at the hunting knife that was sticking out of the top of his skull. Green blood oozed from the wound, and Sam fought back a wave of nausea as he took in the sight of the creature with it's cranium split open like a watermelon.

Finally, Lance's eyelids fluttered and closed for the last time.

The three hunters stood in silence as the seconds ticked by, Jo breathing heavily and Dean still maintaining his distance for fear of rebuttal. After a minute had elapsed, Dean hazarded a step towards his girlfriend.

"Jo?" he attempted, his tone hopeful and his eyes alight with the promise contained within the Memoladro's demise.

"I… I don't…" Jo whispered, tears beginning to tumble freely down her cheeks, "I still don't remember."

"Wh-what?" Dean demanded, his expression utterly crestfallen as he peered at first Jo and then his brother.

Sam stared back helplessly at his sibling, and Dean met his gaze with a desolate expression.

"I'll call Bobby, maybe there's something else we gotta do? I mean, maybe we should burn the body, or... or something," Sam shrugged, leaping into action and trying to provide some semblance of hope.

"Yeah, maybe," Dean nodded, trying to muster a reassuring smile for Jo's benefit.

She nodded though unconvinced and, stepping over the creature's body, stood in front of Dean and stared up at his face. Try as she might, and with the greatest will in the world, nothing about his features or eyes sparked even the slightest trace of familiarity.

Blowing out an unsteady breath, Jo shook her head as she whispered, "So... what now?"

Dean averted his gaze to the floor, trying to formulate some sort of plan that would somehow convince his head to believe his heart. But there was only one possible option. His fingers tentatively brushed the edge of her hand, and he was grateful when he slipped his fingers through hers and she made no effort to resist.

"I guess... we start right back at the beginning."

"The beginning…" Jo repeated, sucking in a breath as she gave a slight nod of agreement. Cautiously, Dean extended his right hand and brushed his fingertips down Jo's cheekbone, consenting to smile as she allowed herself to lean into his touch.

"I love you, y'know?" Dean said quietly, his voice barely audible. Sam shuffled into the ensuite with his cell phone clutched in one hand, stepping over the felled door in order to allow the couple a few moments of rare privacy. Bobby had yet to answer his call, and Sam continued to wait with mounting impatience, listening to the incessant ringing as he willed the old hunter to pick up.

"I wish I did," Jo murmured in reply, her gaze ticking back to Lance's prone body and the hilt of the knife that protruded from his skull.

"You will… I never break a promise," Dean stated, his grin cocksure and lopsided as he reached out and tucked a tendril of hair behind Jo's ear. She peered up at him, her eyes sweeping his features and scrutinizing everything she found there. Whilst she could sense he was a good man at heart, and it was evident that she certainly meant a great deal to him, Jo simply could not recall even the smallest details of their life together.

"Here," Dean said, bending down towards the monster's corpse and reaching for the hunting knife. Jo watched as Dean seized the handle and then proceeded to wiggle the blade free. It slid out of its mark with a sickening squelch and Jo grimaced, grateful when Dean wiped the blade across his jeans a couple of times before offering her the handle of the weapon. Jo reached out, her fingers brushing against the cold metal, and her eyes slammed shut not of their own accord.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath, his own eyelids flickering closed unbidden, and the couple stood in silence, connected not only by the blade, but by over two decades of memories as they flowed back into the mind of their owner.

Jo gasped, her body reeling backwards with the force, and Dean reached blindly for her hand as the air around them crackled and sparked.

A thousand memories flickered before his eyes, images a young child might see, when the world around them is vast and looming. A pair of dark brown eyes came into view, creasing with an adoring smile that was repeated over and over again. It was a face that dominated the hundreds of moments Dean suddenly found himself privy to; Ellen.

Jo learning to walk, birthday candles and streamers, lonely lullabies next to a snow frosted window, and a grave stone that bore the name of an elusive yet much loved father.

The years passed by in a rush, leaving little time to determine the images, save for familiar faces and places Dean himself had known and loved.

Then he finally saw himself, or rather, he saw the back of his jacket; rifle pressed to the centre of his torso as their wary exchange played out, and Dean relived the moment he had first laid eyes on Jo Harvelle, and how he had literally seen stars.

Dean felt himself swaying on his feet, and his hand clutched Jo's a little tighter as he drew her closer. The light around them was blinding, but a small smile tugged at his lips as he watched scenes of their everyday life flash before him.

There were moments he'd been unaware of but he watched, engrossed and in awe, as he saw himself through Jo's eyes.

Over and over he saw the strong line of his jaw stretched taught as his lips twisted into smile after smile that he no longer recalled the fuel behind. His own forest green eyes narrowed as they swept Jo's face, and more lingering kisses than he could count exploded in his memory, all from Jo's perspective.

Dean almost blushed as he saw a familiar lascivious look spread across his features, but he knew that every glance was appreciated by her. Finally, Jo let out a breath, and the images flickered before the final one played out; the memory of Lance slamming a heavy hand to Jo's forehead just before her whole world went black.

A few moments of silence elapsed, and Dean and Jo stood blinking at each other in both confusion and shock.

"D-dean?" Jo stuttered, the knife clattering from her fingers, striking the edge of the bedside cabinet before it plopped onto the carpet. Silently, Dean nodded, and then Jo's face was alight with a brilliant, wonderfully familiar smile.

"I remember…" she breathed. And it took less than a second for her to cross the distance between them, and throw herself into Dean's waiting arms.

**x-x-x**

Bobby grunted in thanks as Dean rested an opened bottle of beer on the table before him, and then slid a paper plate loaded with a slice of greasy pizza across to the older hunter. With a curt nod of acknowledgement, Bobby seized the beer and brushed the pizza aside untouched. His eyes narrowed a fraction as he returned his attention to Jo, who had been talking animatedly, all the while gesturing with her hands.

"So this… Memoladro just had everyone's memories stored up on DVDs?" Bobby demanded, staring askance at Jo, who nodded her head quickly.

"Yup, how's it feel Bobby knowing even the monsters are more technologically advanced than you?" Dean inquired, grinning as he heard Sam snicker from his position in the kitchen, where he was doubtlessly raiding the refrigerator for more beer.

"Shut up, idjit," Bobby growled gruffly, turning back to Jo as he continued, "can't you see the lady's telling a story?"

"Well, that's pretty much it," Jo shrugged, grinning through her words as Dean sat down behind her and slung his arm around her collarbone, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"So, all the wrinklies got their memories back too?" Bobby enquired, diplomatically averting his gaze and staring down the neck of his beer bottle.

"Uh-huh," Jo affirmed, her eyes firmly affixed upon Dean's as he leant closer and snatched a lingering kiss that was soon repeated, until the uncomfortable clearing of throats brought them to their senses.

"Anybody want more pizza?" Jo enquired, eyebrows raised as she stood from her chair and cast an expectant gaze over the three hunters.

Bobby and Sam watched her head toward the kitchen, and Dean smiled buoyantly as he gestured in her direction with his thumb, his body already raised out of his chair.

"I'll... go help her out with that," he explained, not bothering to await a response before he sauntered off to join his girlfriend.

Bobby watched them intently from across the room. His eyes narrowed and his lips twisted into a disdainful grimace as he arched an eyebrow in Sam's direction.

"You been putting up with all their touchy feely crap since Florida?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, sighing wearily as he recalled the journey back to the car yard.

Bobby appeared to mull this over for a moment, and he shuddered for effect, "Ugh."

"Yeah," Sam drawled in ready agreement, lifting his beer bottle from the table and gratefully swallowing down a mouthful of the cold, amber liquid.

Dean leant back against the counter top, watching as Jo perused the remains of the two pizzas set out in open boxes before her. Her hair fell in loose curls down her shoulders, and he reached out to twist his finger through one stray lock as it swept the curve of her cheekbone, and Jo blinked at the intrusion.

"I... I missed you," Dean confessed, his fingertips lingering over Jo's face as she glanced up at him from behind thick dark lashes with apparent confusion.

Jo lifted her head and put her dinner decision on hold. A teasing smile caught her lips, and she shrugged as she thought over their latest hunting misadventure.

"I guess 'civilian' me was kind of a pain in the ass, huh?" she laughed to punctuate her sentence.

Dean shrugged, his grin telling although he said diplomatically, "She took some getting used to. The Jo I know has never exactly been helpless."

"It was the weirdest thing," Jo confessed, wrapping her arms around herself as she recalled the state she had been rendered in by the Memoladro, "I was there, aware of it all, and I knew little things like the alphabet and dumb stuff like that… but I didn't remember you or my Mom or this life."

"Don't think about it anymore," Dean soothed, moving Jo into his arms and embracing her tightly, taking a pause to breathe in the scent of her shampoo with his eyes closed. He had come so dangerously close to losing her again, and although Dean did not wish to dwell on this fact anymore, he knew it would be haunting his dreams for a while to come.

"The worst thing was not remembering how much I love you," Jo said quietly, her cheek pressing against Dean's chest. She listened intently to the beating of his heart beneath his breastbone, and a smile affected her lips.

"I love you too, Jo," Dean replied, and his voice rang out with a certainty and clarity that momentarily took Jo aback.

"Thank you for helping me remember," she whispered, stretching up on tiptoes in order to deposit the words directly into Dean's ear.

"Hey, I didn't do anything," Dean shrugged, his eyes happily drinking in the sight of her as he hugged her closer, "you went all Buffy and slayed the monster."

Jo grinned, looking momentarily thoughtful.

"That's right, I did," she nodded, her eyes sparkling with a light and luminosity that had previously been missing. Her arms looped tighter around his neck, and she pressed her cheek to his. The faint line of stubble brushed her soft skin, and her stomach dipped at the sensation and the firm hold of his hands around her waist.

"Yeah, yeah, 'Hunter Barbie'," Dean teased, and his fingers pinched playfully at her waist as he bent his head and attempted to seek out her lips.

"You know..." Jo began, her eyes focused on his mouth as he edged closer and her lips parted in anticipation, "in spite of everything, all that we've been through and the general suckiness of having to save the damn world once every quarter... I wouldn't trade my life for anything. That sound crazy?"

"Once… if someone had offered me a trade-off, I'd have chewed their damn arm off," Dean replied, his smile mirroring Jo's, "but not now."

"Guess we're pretty lucky, huh, Winchester?" Jo teased, giggling as she planted a kiss against Dean's jaw and his stubble prickled her lips. He straightened up a little, his nod solemn but amusement written plainly across his features. Absently, he ran the tip of his finger across the ring positioned on her hand, and his smile only grew wider.

"Guess we are," he simply answered. Jo looped her arm around Dean's waist and the couple sauntered back into the lounge, all thoughts of pizza and anything much beyond retiring for the evening now having been obliterated from their minds.

"Where are you two lovebirds headed?" Bobby demanded suspiciously, glancing up from the papers both he and Sam appeared glued to.

"Bedtime," Dean announced, pointedly avoiding the smirk Jo directed at him as he stretched his arms wide above his head and feigned a loud, obnoxious yawn. Simultaneously, Sam and Bobby rolled their eyes, shooting similarly irritated looks at Dean.

"Oh I see," Bobby griped, his tone sour but the twinkling in his eyes understanding, "you plan on chippin' in here at all, or just shirking your responsibilities altogether?"

"Last one sounds pretty good," Dean replied, winking at Bobby, who snorted before rolling his chair away from the edge of the table. "What are you guys up to anyway?"

Jo stole a glance over Sam's shoulder, skimming the neat cursive upon the paper with a thoughtful twist of her lips. There were two handwritten advertisements laid out before him, and Sam's gaze hovered uncertainly over both. Although the adverts were brief, barely fifty words each, it was clear that Sam had poured every last ounce of concentration and effort into writing them. The roadhouse had come to mean as much to he and Dean as it did to Jo, and the task of advertising for a new bar manager to take the reins when they were away on hunts was one that he was viewing with the utmost seriousness.

"I guess the first one?" Jo suggested, trying to calm the surge of nerves that rose up from the pit of her stomach suddenly.

She knew that the interview process was likely to be a stressful and possibly fruitless experience, thus she was anticipating it with an odd sense of dread. If the slightly strange patrons of the bar were not enough to drive away the more experienced applicants then the unconventional hours and last minute absence of the owners might prove to be the sticking point for most.

Jo was also mindful of the ever present memory of her mother, and she would never allow anybody to cross the threshold of the roadhouse if she thought Ellen would disapprove. The land was all she had left of her family now, and Jo was determined the business would not suffer as a result of her hunting lifestyle.

Over the years, the roadhouse had become a sanctuary and meeting place for hunters from all over the country, and the patrons regarded the place with almost as much reverence as the owners.  
>The new bar manager would almost certainly have an uphill struggle to endear themselves to the regulars, who still longed for the days of Ellen's heavy-handed yet big-hearted presence.<p>

"Okay, well... now that's agreed," Dean began, "I think it's time we call it a night."

He smiled in obvious anticipation and wrapped an arm around Jo's waist. She returned his smile, although hers did not stretch all the way to her eyes as it usually did. Dean squeezed her waist gently, a gesture of reassurance, and murmured a quiet goodnight to both Sam and Bobby before he began to lead Jo upstairs to their room.

Jo followed willingly, allowing Dean's chatter to wash over her, largely unheard.

However, that night, as Dean lay at her side, snoring loudly and with one arm draped across his girlfriend in a contented poise, Jo lay awake long into the early hours of the morning.

Her thoughts revolved around a memory; a bustling bar presided over by a woman with the kindest smile she had ever known, and a man who smelled of gunpowder and leather, who twirled a little girl around a scuffed floor to music that resonated from the jukebox. More than anything in the world, Jo Harvelle yearned to honour that memory, and the idea that she might one day fail in that task was the most terrifying thing she had ever faced.

Though she had kept it to herself, the surge of remembrance that had brought her memories back to her had been tinged with a bittersweet renewal of grief. Peering up into the darkness, Jo curled her hand around Dean's, and almost instantly his fingers knotted with hers.

Memories were both a blessing and a curse, bringing immense joy, but an equal measure of pain and loss. So, Jo lay awake until exhaustion eventually overcame her, and her silent tears became little more than a stain on her pillow.

**The End of Episode Eight**

**(Next Episode – 'Toy Story')**


	25. Chapter 25

_**Episode 9 – Part 1**_

'_**Toy Story**_

_**x-x-x**_

_**Windham County, Vermont**_

_**October 27**__**th**__** 2011**_

By the flicker of candlelight, the ritual commenced.

Robes swirled across the dirty tiled floor, making soft swishing sounds that barely competed against the crackling of flames emanating from the hastily constructed fire in the centre of the room.

The symbols daubed on each of the four walls in a crimson liquid that was perhaps blood, or perhaps merely paint, were thrown partially into the obscurity of shadow as the five figures completed their macabre dance around the pyre. Their hands intertwined, and their hooded faces raised towards the ceiling as their leader took up the first of the necessary incantations.

Raising a torn piece of paper, one of the figures began to chant slowly and steadily, their tone darkening as they stumbled through the ancient Latin scrawled in cursive on the parchment.

The fire sparked and crackled as their chants increased in vigour, and one cowled participant eyed the hissing fire with building excitement.

Three lines remained unspoken; the final words that would beckon the spirits to walk and speak amongst the living once again. The ritual was almost complete.

Lips twisting into a smirk, the figure sucked in a breath and prepared to rain pain and destruction down upon humanity.

"You damn kids again?!"

The group simultaneously turned toward the beam of bright light that cut through their circle, and their eyes collectively met the angry glare of Joel Maddeson, the long suffering night guard.

With a unanimous groan, the five teenagers lowered their hoods, some rolling their eyes as Joel began to stamp out the flames of their fire.

"Hey!" Ross, the self-appointed leader of the group, squeaked in protest, "you're ruining it!"

"Ruining what?" Joel scoffed, kicking out the last of the embers and affixing the kids with a stern look that successfully succeeded in masking his amusement, "this piss poor attempt at invoking Ozzy Osbourne?"

"You'll be sorry," spat Jessica, the only girl amongst the group of budding Satanists. She pushed her spectacles back up the bridge of her upturned nose, and glowered at Joel to the best of her abilities. The old guard chuckled, shaking his head as Jessica huffed her annoyance and crossed her arms in front of her ample chest. The girl was ample in most respects, and Joel would have felt sorry for her had it not been for the unfortunate company she chose to keep. However, he assumed that her choice of companions was more a result of desperation than actual fondness for the four geeky, somewhat ridiculous boys, who had been chased away from the same sight no less than five times in as many weeks. They were nothing if not persistent, Joel supposed.

"Now, get the hell out of here before I call the cops," Joel growled, taking a thermos of coffee from his pocket, which he proceeded to pour liberally over the residual embers.

"Just wait, you'll see the spirits are gathering," Jessica insisted, trying to shrug Joel off as he frogmarched her toward the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Joel guffawed, "trust me darlin', I've been working this nightshift longer than you've been alive and the only spirits around here are the ones in my desk drawer. Now, get out of here, all of you, and don't let me catch you back here again."

Joel rolled his eyes as he heard them muttering and cursing at him under their breaths, and he took a moment to retrieve the crackling radio from his hip.

"Hey Mike, the Scooby gang are headed in your direction, can you escort their asses out of the main gates?! Thanks."

Receiving an affirmative response from his colleague, Joel shone his flashlight around the room and sighed at the seemingly endless collection of toys that sat in the corner of the room.

Local legend suggested that the room in the old asylum had once belonged to a young girl named 'Mara', who had been abandoned by her parents at the gates of the hospital at only 7 years old. Mara had lived out the remaining 86 years of her life among the mentally ill and criminally insane. Her spirit was said to roam the building once more in death, appearing in the form of the child she had been at the beginning of her incarceration.

Of course, to Joel, the story was a pile of proverbial bullcrap, and he saw it as little more than an urban legend. After nineteen years working security at the abandoned hospital, he had found little to concern him other than teenagers with over-active imaginations, and rats the size of a St. Bernard.

Nonetheless, Hellingly Asylum continued to play host to a variety of ghost tours and walks throughout the year, alongside numerous visits from those descendants of past patients who often made pilgrimages to the site when their own morbid curiosity consumed them.

Joel found the toys left behind by those who had been entranced by Mara's story to be highly creepy, and for the most part he avoided all dealings with them, save for bagging them up and donating them to Goodwill when they became too many in number. However, as he turned to leave the room, Joel's eyes fell upon a curious sight; two porcelain dolls, perfectly pristine, and standing side by side still in their packaging. The store tags also remained on the plastic windows of the boxes, and Joel almost chuckled as he realised that someone had cared enough to fork out $30 on the trinkets.

"I swear some people have got more freakin' money than sense," he griped, kneeling down to examine the dolls further.

He lifted one of the boxes from the floor, scrutinising the child's toy inside. The thick dark lashes of the doll framed two perfectly blue eyes, and a cascade of chestnut curls tumbled down her shoulders and highlighted the rich ruby red dress she had been clothed in.

Her sister was similarly attired in a royal blue dress, although her hair was blonde and her eyes a dark, rich brown.

Joel glanced around him almost as an afterthought and then hoisted the two boxes up into his arms.

"You got plenty to spare, Mara, don't think you'll be missing these two ladies," he stated, not imagining for a moment that he would receive a response.

However, as a breeze picked up around him, whistling through the room almost eerily, Joel found himself quickening his pace, exiting with the dolls clutched to his chest. He was certain he had simply imagined the peal of childlike laughter that reverberated throughout the corridor, but he didn't stick around to investigate further.

_**x-x-x**_

With a weary sigh, Joel Maddeson closed the front door behind him, and twisted his key in the lock. He kicked off his shoes on the mat, mindful of the carpets that had been laid only a few days previously, and then trudged towards the darkened kitchen.

In his arms, he carried both dolls; one still within the packaging, and the other now free from the confines of cardboard and plastic. Joel rested the packaged doll on the kitchen counter, before turning the one he had elected to give to his granddaughter over in his hands. A tired but satisfied smile wound its way across Joel's lips, and he started up the stairs to the guest bedroom where he knew his grandchild would already be tucked up.

The door to Rachel's room was ajar, so Joel stepped quietly inside and placed the blonde haired doll onto the pillow beside the snoring child.

Patting her mane of golden curls, he bent to press a kiss to her cheek and then stole away silently from the room, smiling as he contemplated her reaction upon finding the doll the next morning.

Joel yawned and closed the door with a gentle click. Mere minutes later, he was fast asleep beside his wife.

Down the hall, someone was stirring, and a pair of brown eyes flashed open in the darkness.

Glancing momentarily at the sleeping child, the doll surveyed her new surroundings, and her painted lips were suddenly pulled into a ghastly smile.

It was time to play.

_**x-x-x**_

_**Windham County, Vermont**_

_**October 29**__**th**__** 2011**_

The Impala slowed down to a crawl and, for a few moments, Dean continued to inch the vehicle along the curb side as he searched for the perfect place to park. Finally, he killed the engine with the front bumper mere inches away from the back of a police cruiser, before unclipping his safety belt and shooting a glance in the back to where his brother and girlfriend were busily pouring over a newspaper article.

"Talk to me, Sammy," Dean said, his voice a quiet, low rumble as he pushed a pair of sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose.

"Mrs. Marjorie Maddeson, 58, found dead on Tuesday morning by her husband Joel," Sam recounted, raising his hazel eyed gaze momentarily to his brother.

"And this floats our boats, why?" inquired Dean, arching a dark eyebrow as he surveyed the front of the modest two-storey house that was now crawling with law enforcement officials. The entire front yard had been cordoned off by yellow police tape wrapped around wooden stakes, and uniformed officers milled about the driveway doing their upmost to look both busy and important.

Upon the porch sat three jack o'lanterns, which leered at the officers who went about their business. Halloween stickers adorned most windows and a box of decorations stood abandoned by the front door. Someone had clearly been in the midst of preparing for Halloween before things had taken a decidedly more sinister turn in the quiet neighbourhood.

"Cause of death," Jo said brightly, tapping the newspaper and beaming as she caught Dean's eye. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Dean found himself smiling in return, although somewhat disturbed by his own pleasure. Since regaining her memories after their case a few weeks prior, Jo appeared to be taking renewed pleasure in hunting.

"Which was?" Dean probed, rubbing at the stubble shadow that had begun to darken his jawline.

"High heel shoe through the right temple," Sam stated, folding the newspaper and tossing it onto the floor of the Impala.

"Like a stiletto?" Dean checked, his tone somewhat dubious. "Someone 'Single White Female'd her?"

"Guess again, Dean-o," Jo chirruped brightly, leaning forwards and grinning as she added with ghoulish delight, "try a child's dress up shoe."

"That even possible?" demanded Dean, his brow furrowed as he contemplated the unlikeliness of such an occurrence.

"Apparently," said Sam sardonically. "I guess if there was enough force behind the blow."

Dean appeared to contemplate this for only a moment before he shrugged and reached for the door handle, "Okay, so, we pulling an MIB or a Mulder and Scully?"

"I'm gonna go talk to the neighbours, see if they can tell us anything about the family," Sam stated, sitting back to allow Jo to clamber out of the back seat.

The blonde hunter paused to smooth the sides of the loose bun she wore, and produced a pair of gold rimmed sunglasses from her pocket. Dean and Jo fell into step beside each other, both reaching for their fake ID badges which they promptly flashed at the slightly unnerved police officers.

Predictably, nobody questioned their appearance or attempted to deny them entry, and Dean smirked as he heard murmurs of _'the Feds are here'_ from a couple of passing officers.

"Can I help you?" a gruff voiced detective enquired, suddenly appearing in the hallway as the couple loitered and peeked through into the living room, where a team of forensic officers were collecting fingerprints from the mantle and window ledges.

"Agents Bachmann and Turner," Jo stated, pulling off her sunglasses as she offered the man a brief glimpse of her ID and a stoically determined expression that she hoped he would not argue with.

The detective swept his gaze over the pair, before finally nodding and gesturing up to the staircase.

"Hey, boss, can you come out back, the boys think they've found something?" a young officer suddenly interrupted, ushering the glowering detective out toward the back yard and away from the hunters.

Dean smiled in thanks, about to begin to ascend the stairs when the face of a passing CSI officer caught his attention. Blinking twice, Dean squinted as he watched the man clumsily knock a candle stick from the mantle and a sinking feeling suddenly overcame him.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath, jamming his hands in his pockets as he released an irritated huff of breath.

"What?" Jo queried, her brow furrowed as she caught the tight lipped grimace that had now settled on Dean's lips.

"Garth," Dean snarled. He wondered whether or not trying to get through the hunt without crossing their counterpart's path was a viable option.

"Garth?" Jo repeated, her expression conveying her confusion as she shook her head, "what's a Garth?"

Dean tipped his head and smiled briefly, "Jury's still out on that one."

Too late. Garth turned to fumble in the open kit box beside him and, as he raised his gaze to smile inanely at a passing colleague, his eyes travelled to Dean's face.

"Aww crap." Dean leaned closer to his girlfriend, his breath catching the shell of her ear as he whispered, "Brace yourself, sweetheart."

The wiry, weasel faced man sauntered across the room with one hand dangling from the pocket of his beige chinos, and the other hovering at the knot of his dark blue tie. He nodded his head at Dean, his expression comically serious, and his lips formed a smile that Dean could not bring himself to return.

"Garth, my man," Dean muttered in greeting, extending one hand to Garth, which the man ignored in favour of seizing the other hunter in a bear hug.

"Hey, mind letting go," Dean growled under his breath, struggling to escape Garth's surprising grip. "I doubt the actual Feds rock a bromance in the middle of a crime scene."

"Sorry, sorry," Garth said hastily, pulling away from Dean and grinning, "just real good to see you, dude."

Jo watched the scene unfold with amused interest, her thumbnail hooked in her mouth.

"Maybe we should…" she suggested, gesturing with a slight inclination of her head to the staircase. From the hallway above, the persistent flashing of a camera could be seen.

"So…" Garth smiled, arching an eyebrow at Jo, "who might you be, little lady?"

"Oh my God," Jo muttered, folding her arms across her chest as she regarded the man with unbridled disdain.

Dean snickered, wondering how far Garth would have to push his girlfriend before she had his arm behind his back and his face pressed into the floral wallpaper. Clearing his throat to stifle further amusement, Dean gestured to the blonde beside him.

"Garth, this is Jo Harvelle," he stated, sighing as Garth ran his eyes over Jo in a manner that was blatantly lascivious.

"Charmed, I'm sure," Garth leered, attempting to snatch Jo's hand, but her reflexes were too quick for him and she slipped easily out of his reach.

Tossing a brief glance over her shoulder, Jo curled her fingers around Dean's arm and nodded towards the bedroom.

"I'm going to check out the crime scene," she stated, pausing to glare in disapproval at their new colleague, who visibly shrank back.

Garth watched Jo disappear down the hallway and he nodded his head in approval at her retreating form.

"Very nice," he nodded, rewarding his fellow hunter with a round of quiet, slow applause, "very nice, Dean. Well played, my friend."

"Hey," Dean held up his finger in warning mere millimetres away from the tip of Garth's nose, "you keep your eyes and your filthy little paws off, okay?!"

Garth mouthed an 'oh' of sudden understanding, and he added hastily, "My apologies, dude, I didn't realise she was your special lady. Anyway, The uh… The Garth is out of action right now."

Dean's brows knit together and he peered at Garth in evident uncertainty.

"You got… issues?" he fished, curiosity overcoming him against his better judgement.

Garth snorted in amusement, "Me? Please, man, be serious."

Dean watched as the hunter's countenance slipped, and a thoroughly forlorn expression clouded his features.

"Me and Monique, we're kind of on a break right now," he admitted, glancing down at his shoes, "I mean, I can't really blame her. Hunting ain't exactly relationship friendly, right?"

Dean winced, absently scratching the side of his head, "She uh… she cheated?"

Garth swallowed hard, "The hot tub repair guy."

"Ouch," Dean replied sympathetically.

As the faintest traces of tears begin to shimmer in Garth's already puppy-dog eyes, Dean began to feel increasingly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and searched the milling mass of bodies for Jo's familiar form.

"Shall we?" he said, wasting little time in hooking Garth's arm and practically frog marching him into the bedroom in Jo's wake.

Jo was already well into the throes of hunter mode, and had slapped on a pair of latex gloves with which to pour over the body of Mrs. Maddeson. The corpse remained in the bed where Dean presumed it had been discovered, obscured from view only by a thin, white cotton sheet. However, the top of the blanket did not quite reach the top of the woman's head, and from beneath the hem Dean could just about make out a pink sequined child's shoe poking out. He swallowed hard, thoroughly unnerved, before joining Jo, who was nodding politely as the town deputy filled her in on the finer details of the case.

"And Mr. Maddeson didn't hear anything at all?" Jo queried, frowning as the deputy examined the notepad he clutched before shaking his head.

"Nope," he replied, running his tongue over his top front teeth in a gesture that inexplicably irritated Dean. "Didn't discover Marge 'til 8:30 am when he woke up to take a pi… Leak."

Ignoring the almost use of profanity, which would not have offended her anyway, Jo nodded and continued to peer analytically at the covered body, as though sheer will alone would crack the case.

"How's that possible?" Garth cut in, suddenly appearing at Dean's elbow and causing him to jump several inches. Dean shot his fellow hunter a murderous look which Garth was undoubtedly oblivious to.

"Excuse me?" the deputy questioned, his upper lip curling as he leaned closer to Garth.

"Well, to crack through this here lady's skull with a dress up shoe, the perp. had to take more than one swing at her," Garth stated, folding his gangly arms across his chest, "surely she'd have woke up… maybe screamed a little, right after she was hit on the noggin' the first time?"

Jo's lips drew into a tight smile and she glared pointedly at their new side-kick, "That's what we're here to find out, right, Officer... Cane?"

Garth nodded emphatically, jamming his hands into the pockets of his CSI windbreaker as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

Ignoring him, Jo continued on, running through their usual list of questions. Sometimes, her late mother's penchant for 'Law & Order' came in handy.

"Was there anybody else in the house at the time of the murder?" Jo asked, her pen poised against her own notepad.

The sheriff nodded, sighing sadly as he relayed, "Yeah, little Rachel, their grand-daughter. Terrible thing for a 6 year old to go through, huh?"

"Yeah," Jo agreed sympathetically, glancing up at Dean, who perhaps best understood the lifelong effects of childhood trauma.

"Anybody spoken to the kid?" Dean enquired, still scanning the crime scene intently.

"No, not yet. Figured we'd wait for her parents to get here first. They were vacationing out of state, should be back in town this afternoon."

"Well, I think we're done here for now, thank you Deputy," Jo stated, glancing up at Dean who bobbed his head in agreement.

"We'll be in touch," Dean said with a polite smile before jarring Garth's shoulder as he indicated for him to leave.

"Ouch, don't push!" Garth protested, wincing and rubbing at the tender spot on his bicep yielded by Dean's heavy handed persistence.

"Hey, Jo, why don't you escort our buddy Garth here back to the Impala and I'll go see if I can track down a contact number for Cinderella," Dean said softly, releasing Garth's arm only for Jo to close her fingers determinedly around it.

"On it," she replied, flashing her boyfriend a smile before spinning in the direction of the front door and beginning to weave through the crowd of officers whilst hauling a mildly protesting Garth behind her.

Dean shook his head, momentarily contemplating the idea of abandoning the case altogether and allowing it to land in Garth's lap. He was certain that the guy had flown solo plenty of times, and was still around to tell the tale. However, as Dean's narrowed eyes fell upon an object apparently discarded on the floor, all such thoughts were dismissed.

After first glancing around to ensure nobody in the near vicinity was watching, Dean stooped down and retrieved the pale blue length of ribbon. The thick piece of material was stained with suspicious looking splashes of a crimson goo, and Dean frowned as he dropped the evidence into his trouser pocket before making for the front door.

As stealthily as he had arrived on the crime scene, the hunter departed, worryingly oblivious to the pair of glassy eyes that watched him all the while from an upstairs window.

Sam stole a final glance at the house behind him and raised his hand stiffly in a wave as the neighbour he had been interviewing peeked out from behind her curtains. Sam reached blindly for the door handle of the car and slid into the back seat of the Impala, immediately loosening the knot on his tie even as he slid across the leather upholstery.

"So, I..." he began, pausing abruptly as he found himself nose to nose with Garth, who bestowed a weak smile upon his fellow hunter.

"S'up?! Sam, my man!" Garth began, holding up his hand and waiting for the 'high five' that failed to materialise. Embarrassment absent, Garth simply scratched his head.

"Dean?" Sam queried, his smile tight and forced as he glared at his brother and awaited an explanation as to why one of the most irritating people he had ever met was now sharing the back seat with him.

"I'll explain later," Dean promised, silencing further queries as he held up his hand. He gunned the engine as he peered momentarily in the rear-view mirror and the car began to move slowly from the kerb side.

Managing to contain his annoyance, Sam decided to focus on the case at hand.

"You guys find anything?" he asked, smiling gratefully at Jo as she handed him her phone, where a plethora of gory crime scene photographs awaited him.

Garth watched intently, his eyes narrowing as he spied the glittering diamond band on Jo's finger. He elbowed Sam in the ribs with an expression of utter disbelief present on his face.

"Seriously, dude," Sam groused, catching the direction of Garth's gaze as the man snickered and began to mime throwing a fishing line.

Sam's eyebrows rose in confusion as Garth continued his performance, clutching at his throat as his eyes bugged and he fought with the pretend hook he had swallowed that was reeling him in to shore.

Shaking his head at both Garth's immature behaviour and his inference, Sam returned his gaze to the phone screen, and squinted as he struggled to make out the grisly images that greeted him.

Jo's eyes narrowed as she watched Garth in the mirror and, moments later, an empty soda can hit the sniggering man right between the eyes.

"Ow!" Garth complained, rubbing the red spot now forming on his forehead as he frowned sulkily at the back of Jo's head.

"Don't make me come back there," Dean warned, craning his neck as they drew to a halt at a set of traffic lights.

"So any idea what we're dealing with here? I drew a blank with the neighbours. From what everyone was saying, the Maddesons were the model family," Sam stated, trying to ignore the bug-eyed stare that was shifting curiously between the brothers.

"Well, the murder weapon was a child's shoe all right," Dean said, his brow furrowing and his lips twisting into a grimace of distaste as he gestured to the right side of his head, "it was just… wedged on in there."

"Ok, well," Sam blustered, eyebrows raised as he regarded his brother, "maybe a poltergeist? A pretty pissed off spirit could conjure up enough energy to do something like…"

"How'd you guys go with that, uhm, Me-…Meme monster thing?" Garth suddenly demanded, leaning both elbows on the headrests of the front seats and poking his head between Jo and Dean. Jo tutted and turned away in disgust.

Dean pulled back sharply, glaring at Garth through narrowed eyes.

"Memoladro?" he supplied, his tone scathing. Oblivious, Garth simply nodded.

"Stabbed it in the head and moved on with our day, thanks for asking," replied Dean, returning his attention to Sam, who bit back a smirk. Garth nodded, glancing from one brother to the other again as he awaited some further direction.

"Sit back," Dean commanded, leaving no room for argument. Hastily, Garth complied, shooting Jo what he hoped was a come-hither smile as she glared at him from across the confined space. Carefully, she pressed herself against the passenger side door of the Impala, mentally rejoicing at the fact that she had called shotgun before Sam had a chance to.

The remainder of the journey back to the motel passed without event, allowing each of the hunters time to reflect on the perplexing case that lay ahead of them.

**x-x-x**

Pressing his nose against the cool glass of the window pane, Garth stared out gloomily at the equally depressing weather conditions and heaved a heartfelt sigh.

"Okay, so... we got a dead grandma... clubbed to death by a plastic dress-up shoe?" Sam said with a wince, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms across his head.

"Husband sleeps through it, wakes up the next morning to... brain soup," Dean grimaced, recalling the splattered patterns of blood and brain matter that decorated the wall behind Mrs. Maddeson's corpse. Suddenly rummaging in his pocket, Dean tossed the ribbon he had earlier collected onto the table, and the three hunters peered at it with equal measures of confusion and apprehension.

"So, what? Barbie got tired of life in the dream house and went postal with a mini Louis Vuitton?" Jo ran her hands through her hair, sighing as both Winchester brothers shrugged, secretly hoping there was no truth behind her quip.

"Maybe she found out about Ken's double life with GI Joe," Dean snickered, his smile widening as Jo snorted in amusement.

"Hey, Garth... got anything you want to share with the class?" Dean asked, attempting to shake their colleague form his reverie, "you were the first of us there. How'd you find out about the case anyway?"

Garth blinked, seeming momentarily stunned by the query, before he straightened up and began to saunter across the room towards Dean. Looking highly uncomfortable, Dean cleared his throat and backed up against Jo's chair. With an amused grin, Jo turned her attention to the crime scene photos spread across the tabletop.

"Was passing through Maine, stopped off at a diner for a milkshake, and Chatty Kathy the burger flipper couldn't stop talking about the grisly murder a few towns over," Garth said, arching a brow at Dean and adopting his best 'serious Hunter' expression.

"When was that?" Sam inquired, frowning as he realised that Garth had more than likely heard of the case after them and yet arrived on the scene before them.

"This morning," Garth replied quickly, settling himself onto the edge of the bed and beginning to kick off his shoes.

"Hey, hey, hey," Dean cut in hastily, shaking his head and gesturing to Garth's feet, which were clad in odd socks, both of which had large holes in the soles. Garth frowned, but obediently slid his feet back inside his beat up track shoes.

"Great… Bobby handed us this case yesterday afternoon, and you still beat us here?" Dean demanded, shaking his head and gritting his teeth in evident annoyance.

"What's the problem, man?" Garth demanded, tone betraying his slight hurt. "I thought… I thought we were… y'know… buds?"

Dean sighed, about to reply in a characteristically snarky fashion, when he noticed Garth's eyes were focused on the hot tub in the corner of the room. After Sam had been happily checked into the last vacant room the motel had to offer, a chagrinned Dean and Jo had been forced to take up residence in the impossibly cerise honeymoon suite.

A heart shaped tub was positioned in the far right corner of the room, sunk low into the deep red carpet that clashed noisily with the pink drapes and bed linens.

The mini bar was stocked with all manner of heart shaped confectionaries and tiny bottles of noxious fizzy wines, but the hot tub hidden away under a canopy of voile had been the final insult to the couple's senses.

Jo refused to go anywhere near either the hot tub or the bath in the en-suite, trying her best not to imagine the exploits that had occurred within their watery confines.

"Earth to Garth?" Dean raised an eyebrow, following the man's gaze and blinking in confusion at the melancholy expression that had now descended upon Garth's face.  
>Sam cleared his throat and nodded pointedly over toward the offending piece of plumbing, his eyes widening as Dean finally mouthed an 'oh' of understanding.<p>

"Don't dwell, dude... it's... it's time to move on," Dean clapped Garth on the back in an attempt at a friendly gesture, causing his painfully skinny counterpart to stumble.

"You ever have your heart broken?" Garth's lower lip trembled as he relayed his tale of woe, "like... just... ripped out of your chest?"

"She a werewolf?" Jo mumbled under her breath, clearly already growing bored of Garth's overly dramatic display before it had truly begun. Appearing not to hear the snide remark, Garth stepped towards the hot tub and carefully ran his fingertip along the rim. Dean grimaced, hardly daring to contemplate the disgusting substances that may now be smeared across Garth's skin.

"Ten months we'd been… close…" Garth gulped, becoming misty eyed as he peered across the room into space.

"Well, ain't that just… tragic…" Dean replied, affixing a bright grin on his face as he turned to Sam, appealing for help with a discreet glance at Garth. The spindly hunter dissolved into noisy sobs, and Jo and Dean both exchanged horrified looks. Sam's mouth dropped open, and he glared in warning at his brother, who had begun to sidle towards the door in an attempt at escape.

"Don't you dare," Sam mouthed, glowering at Dean, who froze in his tracks as he found Garth's eyes upon him.

"C'mon man, show some dignity," Dean almost pleaded, cocking his head at Garth, "it can't be that bad."

Garth wiped his nose with the back of his hand, his eyes glistening with further tears as he turned his watery gaze to Jo.

"Hey, a little thing called empathy," Garth swallowed hard, "you just imagine that pretty little blonde thing of yours just picks up and leaves one night. How'd you feel, huh?"  
>Dean blinked, mouth open poised to reply, when Jo stood up, hand on hip.<br>"Pretty little blonde thing?" Jo repeated, her eyes narrowed dangerously as she cocked her head and stared at the wallowing hunter.

"Well I- I mean..." Garth stumbled, catching the snicker that Dean unsuccessfully hid behind his balled up fist.

"Man up!" Jo demanded, her finger jabbing at the startled man and silencing him rather impressively. "You think she's getting all watery eyed and snotty over you? Huh?! Get your shit together, Garth, and quit feeling sorry for yourself!"

Garth nodded his head, his eyes wide as he uttered his compliance, "Yes ma'am."

"Girls hate sissies, dude," Dean agreed, leaning against the dresser behind him which creaked under his weight. He didn't want to contemplate the cause of the furniture's apparent instability, but the scuff marks along the edge left little to the imagination.

Jo folded her arms across her chest and moved to stand in front of Dean, who grinned in approval and swung his arm around her waist to draw her against him.

"Okay, so can we please get on with the hunt now? Or do you guys want to talk about your feelings some more then maybe we can braid each other's hair and watch Reece Witherspoon movies?"

"Isn't she awesome?" Dean enthused, his grin wide and genuine. Jo peered over her shoulder at Dean and beamed.

"Thanks, sweetie."

Sam rolled his eyes as the couple exchanged a brief and yet impressively hungry kiss, before breaking apart and directing their collective attentions upon Garth. The hunter nodded, sniffed, then straightened up- Jo's wrath having apparently served as the verbal slap he had needed.

"Good, that's the spirit," Jo said approvingly. Garth managed a somewhat watery smile as he jammed his hands into his pockets.

"Ok then," he agreed, still nodding and doing his best to stretch his lips into a something that did not resemble a frown, "let's blow this baby wide open."


	26. Chapter 26

_**Episode 9 – Part 2**_

'_**Toy Story**_

_**x-x-x**_

Jo had drawn the short straw, quite literally.

They had _actually_ drawn straws to determine which of the threesome would be unlucky enough to be partnered with Garth, and fate had pointed its finger squarely at Jo. She was certain it had been laughing manically at the time. Leaving Dean and Sam at the motel to bounce around potential theories whilst searching for other similar crimes in a local radius, Jo and Garth set out to interview Rachel Maddeson.

Garth continued down the street swinging his arms and whistling to himself, seeming oblivious to Jo's utter disdain for being within two inches of his person. Every so often he would pause to admire the Halloween decorations that littered front yards, and Jo would grow more impatient and storm on ahead. After the fifth episode of this, Garth caught up to her and cleared his throat with obvious purpose.

"You not much into Halloween?" he inquired, arching an eyebrow and swallowing as Jo shot him a fierce look.

"Nope," she replied, deciding to keep her responses brief where she could. She knew she was taking her irritation with Sam and Dean out on Garth and, although it was unfair, she was finding it too difficult to keep check of her temper.

"I love it," said Garth, a strange smile overtaking his lips as his eyes began to sparkle with a kind of childish glee.

"You kidding?" Jo demanded with a snort, "a holiday dedicated to monsters, demons, and everything we know goes bump in the night… the skeeziest, scaliest nasties that we bust our asses all year round to protect ungrateful yokels from… and you love it?"

Garth pondered Jo's words momentarily before frowning and shaking his head, his expression questioning.

"Come on, you don't really think like that?" he probed, his lank hair falling in front of his eyes as he peered down at Jo, who shrugged and looked away.

"I guess not," she grumbled, adding almost sheepishly, "I'm just pissed off, is all."

Garth nodded, slipping his hands inside his pockets as they reached the front door of the house and he said awkwardly, "You and the Deanmeister get into a fight, huh?"

Jo rolled her eyes at the use of Dean's new colourful moniker, and snorted in amusement, "No... Dean and I are fine."

She emphasized her boyfriend's name and hoped he would take the non-too subtle hint.

"Well," Garth began, placing his hand on Jo's shoulder and ignoring the resultant shudder the action provoked, "let's get this show on the road, little lady."

He reached out and jabbed hurriedly at the doorbell, rolling back on the balls of his feet as he peered through the frosted glass to where a looming figure appeared.

"Touch me again Garth, and I swear I'll..." Jo trailed off, affixing a solemn yet kindly smile on her face as the front door of the Maddeson home was thrown open and exhibited her ID badge with a well-practiced flick of the wrist.

Her tone changed as the face of the man she presumed to be Joel Maddeson's son peered down at her questioningly.

"Hi, Mr. Maddeson? I'm Special Agent Jackson, this is Agent McCartney."

The man regarded the duo with an almost dubious expression but stepped aside nonetheless to allow them into the foyer of his home. Garth stepped inside before Jo, his eyes sweeping the homely décor in an appreciative manner. Jo followed behind, pausing to wipe her feet on the 'welcome' mat before she replaced her badge in her pocket and turned to address Mr. Maddeson again.

"We know this is a very difficult time for your family, especially your daughter," she began, watching Garth from the corner of her eye as he picked up an ornament off a nearby shelf and promptly almost dropped it onto the ground, where it would be certain to shatter. Mr. Maddeson's attention also appeared to be on Garth.

"Careful with that… please, Agent," he choked out, extending one hand to receive the small china figure of a little girl walking a puppy on a leash, "it's my… it was my mother's."

His smile chagrined, Garth simply nodded and set the ornament back on its perch, patting its head with the tip of his index finger as an afterthought.

"You're here to talk to Rachel, right?" Mr. Maddeson inquired, his brow furrowed as he stared at Jo.

"We just have a few questions," Jo paused, "if that's okay with you?"

The man nodded, obviously struggling with his emotions as he gestured for her to walk through to the living room where Jo spied a little blonde haired girl snuggled hesitantly against the side of a teenaged girl.

"I want you to catch the sick son of a bitch who did this to Mom," he growled in a low tone, and then swallowed hard as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger to hold back a fresh onslaught of tears.

"Just... go easy on her. She lost her mother last year and… and it's been pretty tough on her. She's just a little kid, you know?!"

"I'm sorry for your loss," Jo said kindly, suddenly feeling a kindred spirit to the child who sat feet away. Even as an adult, Jo sometimes felt lost without her mother, as if the world were a strange and more frightening place in Ellen's absence.

"It'll just take a few minutes," Jo soothed. She was glad that Garth had for once decided on the route of common sense and had kept suitably quiet; for the time being, at least.

Jo stepped into the lounge with what she hoped was a gentle smile spread across her face. Rachel's wide brown eyes watched her approach carefully and, as Jo crouched down on the floor in front of the child, she leaned further back against the couch.

"Hi sweetheart," she said quietly, barely aware that Mr. Maddeson was offering Garth coffee, which he accepted with vehement gratitude. Rachel's father bustled out of the room, and the girl sitting next to Rachel flashed Jo a half smile before she climbed to her feet and followed in his wake, seeming almost relieved to be able to remove herself from the situation.

"I'm Jo," the hunter continued, gesturing over her shoulder to her companion, who waved cheerily in a manner that extracted the tiniest grin from the child, "and this is my friend, Garth. We just want to ask you a couple of questions, ok?"

Rachel nodded, although her eyes betrayed her obvious reluctance. Deciding to try a different tactic, Jo reached forwards and stroked the porcelain cheek of the doll seated at the girl's side.

"Your doll's real pretty. Does she have a name?"

The little girl regarded the doll uncertainly, then shook her head in silence.

Little fingers combed through the toy's soft blonde curls, "She doesn't want me to tell you."

Jo mouthed a silent 'oh' and perched on the edge of the coffee table so as not to intimidate her miniature witness.

"Rachel, my friend and I... we want to catch the person who hurt your grandma, so they can't hurt anybody else. Do you think you can help us?" Jo fished, following Rachel's gaze to her lap, where her clasped hands rested on her knees. The child watched the glinting diamond band catch the light of the desk lamp beside them, and Jo dipped her head to capture her attention.

"What do you think? Can you answer some questions for us?"

"Okay," Rachel bobbed her head, clutching the doll tightly to her chest. She scooted back in her seat, and Jo noted with a brief flash of amusement how her feet dangled over the seat of the couch.

"Do you remember what you did with your grandma yesterday?" Jo asked, her tone soft and coaxing. Rachel pondered the question for a moment, then her head bobbed up and down animatedly and she consented to smile.

"We baked some cookies for the bake sale," Rachel stated with confidence, her fingers twirling around her doll's hair.

"That sounds exciting," Jo enthused, wrinkling her nose as she added, "my favourite kind are oatmeal and raisin."

"Really? Mine too!" the child squealed, leaning forward and beaming at Jo, who returned the grin.

"So, after you baked cookies, what did you and your grandma do then?" Jo inquired, shooting a glance over her shoulder at Garth to indicate he should remove his small personal tape recorder from his pocket. Nodding in comprehension, Garth fumbled in his inside pocket for the device, before removing it and flicking it on.

The little girl pursed her lips, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she appeared deep in thought, "Um... then we went to the store, and then we ate dinner, and... and I got to stay up and watch a movie because Grandpa was working."

"Was it a good movie?" Jo inquired with a smile, trying to coach any details, no matter how insignificant. Garth's gaze scanned the room keenly, but he let out a sigh as he failed to uncover anything remotely suspicious, or out of place.

"It was okay, I've seen it before," she shrugged, "but Grandma likes the Muppets. Daddy says my Mommy used to watch that show when she was a little girl. My Mommy and Daddy lived on the same street, you know. They went to the same school, and had the same teacher and everything!"

A broad, awe struck smile graced the little girl's lips, although it was to last only seconds before the child paused and her expression sobered. She lisped quietly, "I miss Mommy."

Jo smiled and reached out tentatively to pat the little girl's hand, "I know, sweetie. I miss my Mom a lot too."

"Is your Mommy in heaven?" the little girl asked, watching Jo closely as the hunter nodded. "Is Grandma in heaven?"

The pain etched on the little girl's face tore at Jo's heart, and she nodded as she replied, "Yeah, I think she is."

"Agents?" Mr. Maddeson appeared in the doorway, startling all three of the room's inhabitants. Jo leaned away from Rachel, her expression almost guilty, as though she had been caught imparting some untoward wisdom to the child.

"Do you have everything you need? It's been a long day for Rach," Mr. Maddeson said, shooting a long and openly sorrowful look at his daughter, who returned to playing with the hem of her doll's lacy skirts.

"Of course it has," Jo agreed, jumping to her feet and gesturing with a slight inclination of her head for Garth to follow her. At the threshold of the lounge, Jo spun on her heel and affixed Rachel with a warm smile.

"It was real nice to meet you, Rachel," she called out, her smile widening as the little girl beamed and squirmed in her seat. She raised one hand to shoulder height and waggled her fingers at the retreating hunters, before her attention became immersed in her toys once again and she began to talk in hushed childish tones to her porcelain companion.

"This is my cell number, Mr. Maddeson," Jo stated, pausing as she foraged in her pocket for the correct business card to present to the man. He accepted the card without so much as glancing at it, and laid it in a crystal dish that sat on a table next to the front door. Jo frowned, knowing too well that the number would be forgotten and then likely discarded with the trash.

"Please, if Rachel mentions anything you think may be useful to our investigation… no matter how strange it may seem, then call me," Jo said, her tone firm and her eyes holding Mr. Maddeson's. With a grunt of acknowledgement that hardly instilled her with confidence, Mr. Maddeson held the door open for the departing hunters, and then closed it with a quiet but resolute click as soon as they had set foot on the porch.

"Well that was a whole lot of nothin' with a side of diddly squat," Garth griped, jingling the keys of his car in his pocket as he and Jo set out across the front lawn. They had parked a block away after Jo had decided on their behalf that Garth's beat up heap of junk could never pass for the vehicle of a federal agent, and although he had been faintly wounded, Garth's healthy respect for Jo's temper had meant that he had agreed with her without protest.

Jo opened the door of the car and slipped behind the wheel, not awaiting an invitation to be the one to drive. She had suffered Garth's questionable driving skills on the way over to the interview and had vowed never again as she almost literally peeled herself off the passenger door when they had parked. Wordlessly, Garth handed his keys over and ducked into the passenger seat.

"Not necessarily," she shrugged, clipping in her seatbelt and quickly gunning the engine.

Garth appeared confused, and he leant back as the car began to slowly crawl away from the curb.

"Okay, you lost me, blondie."

Ignoring his blatant disregard for her actual name, Jo shot him a brief glance and arched an eyebrow, "We know nothing happened during the day before Joel Maddeson got home."

Garth pursed his lips, scratching his chin for effect, "So you're saying he brought someone back with him?"

"Someone or something, maybe?" Jo suggested, realising that angry spirits were not always grounded to one particular site or building. It wasn't outside the realms of possibility that a particular angry ghost had followed the watchman home and enacted vengeance on his sleeping wife. There were a hundred possibilities, and Jo assumed the evening would be spent going over each plausible instance. Hopefully the evening would also involve beer and pizza, preferably the former if Garth was going to be lingering.

"I see what you're saying, sister," Garth enthused, suddenly wrinkling his nose at the sounds of 80's soft rock that began to drift from the car stereo. Reaching a spindly hand out toward the controls, Garth yelped as Jo slapped his fingers away and glowered.

Ignoring his indignant mumbling, Jo swung the car around the block, and began to follow the signs for the highway.

"Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

**x-x-x**

It had taken Dean less than thirty minutes to draw the conclusion that the Maddeson killing had been the only one of its kind in over a twenty-five mile radius for well over a decade. The only article that he had turned up from the vast recesses of the internet that was even remotely close was an obituary that sighted the cause of death as the victim choking on a marble. However, since the victim had been only three years old at the time, Dean had decided it was more than likely a plausible accident and moved on.

Flipping the lid of the laptop closed, Dean set his heels on the desk in front of him and crossed his legs at the ankles, before turning his attention to Sam. The younger Winchester was busily pouring over a book, his eyes skimming the pages rapidly and his fingers twitching of their own accord as though they longed to caress the aged paper.

"Any joy?" Dean inquired, his voice piercing the silence and causing Sam to jump several inches off his chair. His expression looked decidedly guilty, and Dean frowned as Sam shook his head and dropped his eyes back to the page.

"What'cha readin' there, Sammy?" Dean asked, voice as smooth as silk as he clambered to his feet and ambled over towards the bed on which Sam sat cross-legged. The only move Sam made was to shake his head vigorously, but the look he shot Dean reminded him too much of the guilty expression he had often worn as a child after being busted by John for doing something he ought to have known better than to attempt.

"Just… something Bobby loaned me," Sam deflected, shifting around in his position suddenly and slamming the cover of the book closed.

"Didn't have Bobby pegged as the porn mag type," answered Dean, nodding his head in an almost approving manner.

"It's not porn," Sam yelped indignantly, scowling as he demanded, "why would you even think that?"

Dean chuckled and lowered himself down onto the edge of the mattress in front of Sam. Barely a foot separated the brothers now, and Sam fought the urge to self-consciously hug his reading material to his chest, knowing that it would only inflame Dean's suspicions further.

"Come on, Sam," Dean scoffed, resting one hand on the spine of the blue leather bound book, "you're jumpier than a nerd at a Star Trek convention with actual girls at it. Either you got a porno hidden in there, or you're up to another kind of no good."

Sam sniffed indignantly, "Some people actually like to read Dean, you know... as a recreational activity? I know that's hard for you to believe."

Dean grinned and shot his brother a slightly condescending sniff, "Yeah, well... I prefer 'activities' that involve less words, and a whole lot more skin."

Sam folded his arms across his chest, hoping Dean would not notice that the action conveniently bound the book tighter in his grasp.

The expression on Dean's face instantly told his sibling that he had in fact noticed the slightly desperate grip the book was now held in, and Dean wrinkled his nose distastefully.

"Hey, you're not reading that Stephenie Meyer chick again, are you?" he asked suspiciously.

"What? No!" Sam all but yelped, rolling his eyes and sighing in surrender as he saw that Dean's incessant questioning was not about to end any time soon.

"If you must know," Sam began, turning the book around so Dean could read the title, "it's about curses, okay?"

Dean squinted to make out the photograph on the front, which appeared to be a swirling mist trapped inside a large, ancient looking glass vial. Despite the usually ancient origins of Bobby's many research books, this one had a decidedly more retro feel that Dean found instantly amusing.

"Somebody stolen your mojo, Austin?" Dean snickered, his expression suddenly sobering as he realised the intent of Sam's reading material.

"Look, dude... I thought we agreed it was probably all just coincidence?" Dean began, hoping his tone was not betraying the desperation he felt.

"No, Dean… YOU agreed it was probably just coincidence," Sam retorted, "I wanted to look into it further so I…"

Sam trailed off, seeing the spark of fury ignited in Dean's eyes too late.

"You what, Sam?" Dean snarled, his tone growing cold and his shoulders squaring. He turned directly to face his brother and gripped his own kneecaps, his knuckles whitening as he felt his temper tipping rapidly over the edge. Sam met his glare with equal weight, not at all intimidated by the older brother he knew too well.

"I talked to Bobby," Sam replied. His tone was unapologetic, and had they not been two grown men on the cusp of their thirties, Dean would not have put it past Sam to poke out his tongue as an afterthought.

"You what?!" Dean exploded, leaping off the bed and crossing the motel room in two strides, before absently slamming his palm against the wall. The pictures situated there rattled, threatening a descent, but clung to their posts nevertheless.

"Why so tense?" Sam probed, his eyes narrowing as he regarded his brother, "I thought it was all just coincidence?"

Dean's eyes formed furious slits and he strode towards Sam with renewed purpose, his index finger jabbing the air millimetres from the tip of his unperturbed brother's nose.

"It is," hissed Dean, dragging the fingers of his free hand through his spikey hair and turning away momentarily in order to check his temper. He knew he was on the dangerous verge of letting fly at his brother, and so Dean struggled to suck in a few steadying breaths, but found that the action did little to calm him.

"You went behind my back, and discussed this curse crap with Bobby," Dean accused, glaring at Sam with a somewhat more diluted measure of rage.

Sam shook his head and gestured toward his irate sibling, "Dean, wouldn't you rather know? You know... before someth..."

"Don't even finish that sentence!" Dean cut him off, holding his finger up in warning, and his eyes blazed with a fury Sam had rarely seen him exhibit outside of a hunt.

Sam swallowed hard and averted his gaze diplomatically to the floor, still determined to finish his sentence, and highlight the importance of his message.

"We need to know. How can we protect her if we don't know what we're up against?" Sam reasoned, "Mom and Jess... If we'd have known there was a curse, we could have saved them. You can be in denial all you want, man, but if something out there wants to hurt Jo..."

"You think I'd ever let anything happen to her?" Dean snarled, his building panic now shattering the final remnants of his temper.

Sam tossed the book onto the bed and nodded toward the now abandoned item as it lay strewn amongst the covers.

"Read it," Sam directed, suddenly striding across the room and picking up his jacket from the back of a nearby chair. He paused as his hand reached for the door knob, and he stared in apparent disbelief at his brother's glowering form.

"You know, I don't understand you, Dean. If I..." he sighed heavily, preparing to voice a name that still brought a sharp pain to his heart, "I'd have done anything I could to save Jess. I know you're afraid of this... of what it means. But, at least you'll know. And no matter what, whatever it takes, we'll figure this out."

Dean finally allowed himself to meet Sam's eyes, and he nodded gratefully, ashamed of his earlier outburst, although the panicked hammering in his chest was making it hard to process thoughts coherently.

"Just promise me you'll…" Sam began, attempting to appeal to Dean's better nature now he seemed to have regained some control. Dean cut him off with a glare.

"I'll read it," he vowed, although the words were more a growl than an affable promise. Nodding, Sam ducked out of the room and closed the door behind himself without a further explanation of where he was headed.

Puffing out his cheeks, Dean released a breath and slumped against the wall. He allowed himself to sink to the floor, curling his knees into his chest and, for a long time, he remained that way, simply staring at the open book laying amidst the tangle of covers; the possible portent of Jo's future.

**x-x-x**

"No, I can't… Daddy said go to bed…"

"But I'll get in trouble…"

"Ok… uh huh…"

Rich Maddeson paused outside the doorway of his daughter's bedroom, and a smile briefly flashed across his lips as he listened to the hushed whispers of his child pretending to be in deep conversation with her toys. Given all that Rachel had been through lately, he decided to allow the pantomime to continue for a while longer before busting out the 'dad tone' and threats. Therefore, Rich padded down the darkened hallway and descended the stairs quietly, resolving to at least attempt to enjoy the rest of his evening.

The downstairs hallway was in total darkness, and Rich paused as from somewhere nearby outside, a dog barked furiously. A pair of car headlights swung across the lounge window, casting beams of light onto the wooden floorboards, and Rich was too entranced by watching them to even hear the creaking of footsteps behind him.

When a pair of slim arms seized his waist, Rich let out a strangled gasp and whirled around. He rolled his eyes in relief as he peered down at the grinning face of Tess Kendrick, his daughter's seventeen year old babysitter.

"Did I scare you, Mr. Maddeson?" she asked coyly, gnawing on her bottom lip with her top front teeth. Rich affixed a firm expression upon his face and shook his head.

"Not funny, Tess," he chided, consenting to allow a slow grin to spread across his lips as he reached towards the girl and hooked her belt loops with his index fingers, "come here, you."

Tess stumbled forwards willingly, her quiet but high pitched giggle lost as Rich crushed his lips against hers, revelling in the sweet taste of cherry lip gloss.

"So..." Tess began, her eyes full of promise as she traced her fingers down the buttons of Rich's shirt and flicked her tongue against the corner of her full lips, "is Rach asleep?"

"No, but..." he began, obviously picking over his words carefully so as not to offend the young woman, "I'm not really in the mood to... you know. I mean, my Mom just died, and, I don't know, I guess I just..."

"Okay," Tess shrugged, standing on tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips. Her ponytail bounced with the motion, and Rich cringed inwardly as he realised just how young his new love actually was.

"No problem," she stated, beginning to usher him in the direction of the living room, "why don't you pick a movie to watch, and I'll pop some popcorn, 'kay?"

"Yeah, okay," he agreed, happy to do anything that meant his mind may be distracted from the gruesome details of his mother's untimely death.

Tess smiled as she watched him leave, her hand planted square on her hip.

She turned toward the kitchen cabinets, quickly opening one and extracting a box of microwave popcorn. The sachet was soon freed from the cellophane wrapper and, with well-practiced ease, Tess programmed the microwave and stabbed at the 'power' button.

She folded her arms across her chest and leant back against the counter, listening in mild satisfaction as the kernels began to first hiss and then pop with increasing energy. But the microwave suddenly stopped, and the lights extinguished as a tell-tale sound indicated a sudden power-cut.

"Rich?" Tess called out, feeling an inexplicable shudder down her spine as she peered through the darkness toward the direction of the living creak of the floorboards behind her made her start.

She called out, almost nervously, "Rachel? Is that you, sweetie?"

Rich Maddeson cursed under his breath as he shook the flashlight in his hand and twisted the base with increasing irritation.

"Sorry," he stated, sighing in relief as he finally managed to shine a beam of light across the hall, "damn batteries have died. I'm gonna go out back and check the fuses, I think..."

Rich fell back in horror against the kitchen wall as the eerily dimming beam sliced across the pale, lifeless face of the young babysitter.

Tess Kendrick hung from the ceiling beam, a child's jump rope knotted around her neck. Her body dangled like a puppet, swaying with the weight of her small frame, her eyes bulging and bloodshot, and her face ashen and panic stricken.

The flashlight fell from Rich's hand, plunging the kitchen into total darkness once again.

His legs heavy and rooted to the spot, the man swallowed down the bile in the back of his throat, before he finally took off running toward the stairs- towards his child.

**x-x-x**

Jo groaned against Dean's lips as the tips of his fingers brushed against her bare hip beneath the thin sheet that covered their bodies. They lay side by side in the double bed, both happily spent and the picture of perfectly blissful exhaustion, with their tousled hair and kiss plumped lips.

Jo had been surprised yet willing when Dean had literally pounced on her within minutes of her returning from the interview with Rachel Maddeson. She had barely had time to shrug off her jacket before Dean's fingers were working at the buttons on her blouse, and his crotch was pressed flush against her abdomen, revealing the true extent of his lust.

It was thirty minutes before they finally exchanged a whispered and exhausted hello, their foreheads touching and their breaths escaping in ragged gasps. Dean had collapsed at Jo's side without another word before drawing her into his arms and coaxing her head into the crook of his shoulder. Jo went willingly, splaying her palm over Dean's chest and occasionally pressing kisses against his somewhat clammy skin.

At first, Jo took the silence as mutually content reflection, but when she finally gazed up into Dean's features, the worry she saw etched there brought a lump to her throat. Her heart fluttered a little faster in her chest in warning, and Jo gently rested her hand against Dean's cheekbone, drawing his face towards her own. Dean attempted to slide his usual charming grin in place just a fraction of a second too slow, and Jo shook her head in warning.

"What gives, princess?" she demanded, slapping Dean's chest, "I saw that look."

"Look?" Dean repeated, his attempt at innocence almost laughable.

Jo snorted and nodded, "You know… the one that Bobby says can curdle milk?"

"Oh, that one," observed Dean, his voice quiet and his eyes downcast. Jo snuggled closer into his embrace, enjoying the warmth of his skin against her own despite the obvious fact that something was eating away at Dean.

"Come on," Jo pleaded, closing her eyes and supressing a yawn as she danced her fingertips across Dean's bicep, "talk to me."

The silence fell once again like a heavy curtain, and Jo found herself filled with a sense of dread for no real reason. Swallowing down her trepidation, she allowed her body to go limp in Dean's arms, and simply waited for him to open up as she was almost certain he would do. To her surprise, moments later, all Jo received in response was a heavy sigh.

"You ever think about the future?" Dean eventually asked, twining his index finger around a tendril of Jo's hair and tugging on it gently. He watched the curl spring back into place and a genuine smile curved his lips upwards.

Jo blinked, obviously not having anticipated that particular query.

"Uh... sometimes, I guess," she said, her eyes narrowing as she paused in tracing a fingertip over Dean's tattoo. She craned her neck to catch his gaze, "Oh God, you been watching the Hallmark channel again, Dean-o?"

Dean smiled and shook his head, ignoring her teasing.

"No, I just..." Dean faltered, slowly rolling over to face her. He scanned her face intently, his hand curling around her hip to draw her close. "I just, I look at you sometimes, and it's like my chest hurts, you know?!"

He received a finely arched eyebrow in response, and Jo stared back at him askance.

"I really don't know what to do with that, Winchester," she stated in obvious confusion. But a smile tugged at her lips as she untangled the sentiment behind his rambling.

"Are you feeling okay?" she checked, raising a hand to his forehead which he playfully swiped away and then pressed a kiss to the centre of her palm.

"Not that I didn't enjoy that welcome," her eyes swept the motel room and the path of hastily discarded clothes that led toward the bed, "but, what gives?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking, that's all," he tried to sound nonplussed, but Jo easily detected the unease in his tone.

"Always dangerous," Jo conceded, giggling as he nibbled at her shoulder. Her arms enclosed around his neck as he rolled above her, and she hummed contentedly as their mouths melded together in a heated, yet tellingly affectionate, kiss.

As they naturally drifted apart, the tips of their noses still touching, Dean sucked down his own sense of fear, and opened his mouth to speak. However, the words that in fact tumbled in a rush from his lips were so far removed from what he had wanted to say that he winced at his own idiotic inability to be truthful.

"I guess the situation with the Memoladro just still has me a little shaken up," Dean said, hoping his confession sounded sincere to Jo's ears, since to his own it sounded like the pitiful attempt at concealing the truth that it was. If Sam's suspicions were correct, then they had a great deal more to dwell on than simply a botched case. But try as he may, Dean just could not bring himself to reveal as much to Jo. She had been through enough in recent years what with the happenings of Carthage, the subsequent loss of her mother, the struggle to get the roadhouse up and running, and the general chaos that hunting brought to their lives.

Mercifully, Jo appeared to buy the lie, and her teasing expression melted into one of touched sympathy.

"Dean, I worry about you just as much as you worry about me," she stated firmly, cupping Dean's jaw with the palm of her hand and stroking his stubble with the pad of her thumb. "It's a natural part of loving someone, especially in our line of work. But I promise… you won't ever lose me. I have too much to live for now without letting some monster take it all away."

Dean nodded, unconvinced but attempting to appear the opposite, and Jo grinned impishly as she added, "Face it, baby… you're stuck with me for the long haul."

"I am totally okay with that," Dean replied, his hand searching out hers from around his neck, and he clasped their fingers together as he pressed her hand into the pillow beside her head. He reiterated his point with a gentle kiss.

"You know, you're kind of a sap," Jo accused, a teasing grin on her face the second his lips left hers.

"Me? Never," Dean said, shaking his head, "Sammy's a sap, I'm just in touch with my feelings."

Jo's laughter sent pleasant vibrations reverberating between their bodies, and a hum of electricity coursed along his skin. He couldn't help but drag a slow path of kisses down the side of her neck, all the while breathing in the scent of her skin, his fingertips mapping every curve, freckle and scar beneath his touch.

He continued a steady trail down her body, and her eyes flickered closed at the feel of his warm breath and the stubble of his jaw.

"Shouldn't we... be... doing research, or... or something?" Jo began, gasping as he kissed along her stomach and nuzzled his face into her skin, and she writhed beneath him, her fingers grasping at his hair.

Dean ignored her half-hearted suggestion, and swept his hand up her leg, bending her knee as he pressed a kiss into the crease of her thigh that promptly brought Jo to a decision.

"Never mind," she murmured, her mouth dropping open into a wide 'o' the second his tongue teased her flesh.

His concerns shelved, Dean happily lost himself in her arms once again and, for the rest of the evening at least, thoughts of demons, fire, and curses were the farthest things from his mind.

**x-x-x**

Sam's head shot up and he let out a noise that was half way between a startled grunt and a snort as he jolted himself awake. His heart was pounding relentlessly in his chest, but Sam found that the details of his dream had slipped from his mind upon waking as quickly as water through a colander.

"Hey… are you ok?"

The voice was filled with concern, and oddly feminine, and Sam's head whipped around to face the direction of the sound. Jess stood on the threshold of the bathroom, sporting a pair of black pyjama shorts and a white spaghetti strap top. Her plump lips twisted into a frown, and she crossed the room quickly, dropping down on her knees in front of Sam before she slid her palm up his inner thigh in a comforting gesture.

"Fine…" Sam mumbled, squinting in confusion as he regarded Jess, who was gnawing at her bottom lip as though she were unconvinced. "You're not real."

Jess leaned back, her smile patient and concerned as she murmured, "That dream really shook you up, huh?"

Sam stared up at her in shock and confusion, the colour draining from his face as she gazed at him expectantly.

"Sam?" she tried again, chuckling as Sam seemed to falter for words, and his mouth opened and closed, though no sound emerged.

"You're not real," he repeated, screwing his eyes closed in an effort to will the apparition to disappear. When his eyes opened again seconds later, Sam shrank back in his seat as he found the same pair of blue eyes trained upon him.

"What are you?" he demanded, shrinking back from her and scrambling to lift himself out of the seat.

"Sam? You're kind of freaking me out," Jess stated, her hands held up defensively in front of her as she approached him again and he shrank back against the wall.

"I'm dreaming, this has to be a dream," he rubbed his hands over his face, willing himself to wake-up and end the torment. Seeing Jess or an imitation of Jess standing before him awoke every last memory of their ill-fated relationship, and only served to refresh the heartbreak her death had plunged him into.

"Oh Sam…" she breathed, "does it even matter anymore?"

Sam blinked in confusion, finding his hands falling to his sides of their own accord despite his remaining trepidation.

"You died," Sam finally murmured, his breath catching in his throat. "I'm sorry I couldn't…"

Jess moved forward seemingly in the blink of an eye, although there was nothing ghostly about her presence in the slightest. In fact, to the contrary, Sam could smell her shampoo and almost taste her lips on his own. He closed his eyes momentarily, feeling Jess' breath caress his cheek as she leaned towards him.

"None of this is your fault, Sam," she whispered, "I could never blame you."

"Why are you here?" Sam pressed, reaching out despite himself and brushing away an errant tendril of Jess' hair from her eyes. She beamed at the gesture, taking a further step forward and reaching up to tenderly return it.

"I have to warn you," Jess replied, her tone growing sober and her expression shifting to match, "Jo is going to die."

Sam's eyes grew wide, and he began to shake his head as his hand dropped away from her cheek and he regarded her in horror.

"No. No... Nothing will happen to Jo."

Jess shrugged, "Your Dad couldn't save your Mom, Sam. You couldn't save me... Jo's no different. She'll burn, just like we did."

The sing-song quality of her voice sent a shiver up his spine, and the goading smile on her face quickly reminded him that this was not Jess, not even her apparition. This was something else, something altogether more sinister and malevolent.

"No, Dean and I will..." he began, watching Jess' pretty features contort into a reflection of mockery.

"No," she soothed, reaching up as if to press her finger to his lips, but he stepped from her reach before she could make contact with his skin.

"Dean will be a broken man, just like your father was. It's destined, Sam. No man can avoid his destiny."

Sam watched in terror as she slowly stepped back, raising her arms toward the ceiling as a sudden ball of fire engulfed her body. She laughed manically as her flesh and muscle was consumed by the flames, rising up to the ceiling, where Jessica Moore's death was replayed before her fiancé once again.

Coughing against the fumes and the heat now pressing against his throat, Sam could do little more than murmur in agony. He closed his eyes against the unrelenting fire, and willed himself to wake up from what he knew could only be a nightmare.

"Just a dream. It's just a dream," he chanted. A bright flash of light filled the darkness around him, and Sam felt himself falling.

He awoke with a start, hardly recognising his own voice as he shouted in desperation and straightened up in his seat.

His chest heaved with frantic breaths, and he blinked to dispel the images plaguing his mind in favour of the reality of the actual motel room.

Sam swallowed hard as he realised with the slowing of his heartbeat that he was not alone. Garth stood by the television stand, the remote poised in his hand, and a comically quizzical expression spread across his face as he regarded the younger Winchester.

"Man… that must have been some bad dream," Garth observed in his typical slow and easy tone.

"Yeah…" Sam answered, unable still to do little more than gasp out a response. "Just… bad memories…"

"I'm no expert with stuff like this… you want me to go get Dean for you?" offered Garth, already moving to the door with intent. Sam stood up abruptly, placing his body between Garth and the bedroom doorway, all the while shaking his head vigorously.

"No way…" he snapped, wincing in apology as he added in a somewhat more subdued tone, "thanks, dude, but I got this one on my own."

"Ok," Garth said, pausing for a moment to cast a probing gaze over Sam, before shrugging in the next instant and returning his attention to the ill positioned aerial on the portable television.

Sam stood rooted to the spot, still able to smell the sickening stench of charring flesh, and with Jess' mocking promise ringing in his ears. There was definitely something more to his nightmares than merely the ramblings conjured by a weary mind, and Sam knew that his decision to withhold the dreams from Dean was perhaps unwise. However, despite these realisations, Sam simply could not bring himself to talk to his brother. He preferred to think that he was reluctant to unnecessarily alarm the already more skittish of the Winchesters, but in reality, Sam knew that this was not the case.

"Hey, Garth…" Sam began, smiling briefly as the other man's head whipped around in response, "do you think… I mean… do you believe in destiny?"

Garth folded his arms across his chest, tapping the remote control against his elbow as he stared thoughtfully across the room, lips pursed.

"Well now, that's a mighty interesting question there, Sam..." he began.

Sam smiled weakly, "I was kind of hoping for the short answer."

Garth shrugged, dropping down onto the bed and lying with his arm propping up his head, as he began to hastily speed through the TV stations, leaving little but a crackling blur flashing across the screen.

Sam winced and stood from his chair, running his hand nervously through his hair, "So?"

Garth deliberated for only a few seconds more. "Nope. I like to think we've all got a little free will down here. Makes me nervous to think someone else is pulling the strings. I mean, if that's true, what's the point of it all?"

"So you don't..." Sam began, pausing as Garth interrupted.

"Although, if I hadn't forgotten Monique's birthday, I never would have felt guilty enough to buy that stupid, dumb old hot tub... and she'd never have been grateful enough to buy that little pink bikini, which got trapped in the water vents... which is how she wound up meeting stupid, dumb Gary," Garth sighed, "I don't know man, maybe that was fate. Maybe I'm destined to be alone. A maverick... The mysterious guy who passes through town. A lone wolf, out there in the..."

"Um... okay. Thanks. Helpful," Sam nodded awkwardly and headed into the bathroom.

Closing the door behind him, he leant his hands either side of the counter and stared at the man reflected back at him. Dark circles marred the skin around his eyes, and the nightmares that had been smothering him for the last couple of months were now visibly taking their toll.

Running the cold water faucet, he liberally doused his face and pressed his skin gratefully into the soft fabric of a nearby towel.

He had to talk to Dean, no matter how much he might dread that conversation. His brother needed to hear it. He deserved the truth.

**x-x-x**

Dean had slept uncharacteristically well, and truthfully could have enjoyed many more hours of peaceful slumber with Jo wrapped in his arms. However, barely two hours after he had fallen asleep, he was being prodded awake by Jo, who was talking calmly into her cell phone with an unreadable expression upon her face.

Dean winced and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with balled fists, stifling the yawn that threatened to escape him loudly. Jo said a curt goodbye, and was already moving off the bed before she had even stabbed the disconnect call button.

"What's with the wake-up call?" Dean inquired, squinting as Jo flipped the wall switch and the room was thrown into unwelcome and harsh light.

"That was Rich Maddeson, the guy whose house we were at this afternoon," Jo stated, already beginning to tug her black lace panties over her knees. Dean paused momentarily to appreciate the view, feeling a warm sensation spreading from the base of his stomach as he watched Jo's breasts sway gently whilst she crouched forward.

"Focus, Dean-o," she commanded, obviously aware of his inappropriate attentions, although not altogether irritated by them. Dean cleared his throat and discretely repositioned the bed sheet in order to hide the now growing bulge around his crotch before Jo noticed .

"Sorry… yeah… the guy whose Mom was iced with a shoe," Dean answered, gesturing helpfully to the back of the desk chair as Jo scoured the room fruitlessly for her bra. "What did he want?"

"He's just found the babysitter dead," Jo replied, "he was pretty shocked still and not making an awful lot of sense but, best I can figure, she was hanged with a jump rope."

"A… a jump rope?" repeated Dean, shaking his head at the absurdity.

"Uh huh," said Jo, her eyes gleaming with her suspicion as she added, "I think we need to have another little chat with Rachel Maddeson."

"You think the kid…" Dean began, his eyes wide with alarm at the prospect of a child being responsible for such violent mayhem. Jo shook her head, her own eyes widening at the misunderstood insinuation.

"Not at all," she said with confidence, a small smile gracing her lips as she recalled the bashful but sweet natured little girl, "but I think it's possible that something has latched onto her and I bet she has a pretty good idea of just what that something is."

Dean glanced at the clock on the nightstand and grimaced at the flashing neon figures that alerted him to the fact it was now almost 1am.

Though his curiosity was peaked, the exhaustion that had set upon him both as a result of his silent nocturnal brooding, and that evening's rather athletic activities had left him in need of a good night's sleep. Still, hunting had never been an occupation that allowed normal working hours, and despite the yawn that momentarily overcame him, his hunter instincts were beginning to push a fresh surge of adrenalin through his veins.

"Dean?" Jo paused, one hand planted on her hip as she stood at the foot of the bed now dressed in her black pants and a shirt she had partially buttoned up, "you gonna get dressed, or are you planning on going like that?"

She gestured down to the sheet around his body and quirked an eyebrow.

Grinning at her suggestion, Dean shrugged and threw back the covers, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to stand, "Nah, I'm too bootylicious for that, sweetheart."

He winked before releasing another exaggerated yawn and stretched his arms above his shoulders.

Jo laughed and rolled her eyes, blindly closing the few remaining buttons on her dress shirt, as she discretely cast her gaze over in his direction and watched as he padded toward the bathroom.

"See something you like, Harvelle?" he called out of the bathroom, causing Jo to smile as a guilty blush rose up her cheeks.

"Dean, we need to leave like ten minutes ago!" she ordered, beginning to hunt around the nightstand for the hair pins that had been hurriedly discarded some hours earlier.

Twisting her blonde curls up into a bun, Jo pushed the bobby pins through her hair, and marched into the bathroom to examine her handy work, and check on Dean's progress.

Jo scanned her appearance quickly in the mirror, surprised to find Dean half dressed, and in the process of brushing his teeth.

The overhead lighting was dim and unhelpful, yet Jo couldn't help but see a small, red mark beneath the edge of her collar that hardly seemed in keeping with their rouse as FBI agents.

"Ughh, Dean!" she grumbled, yanking down the edge of the cotton to further examine the mark.

Wiping his mouth on a towel, he grinned somewhat proudly and extended his finger to trace over the blemish.

Jo sighed in annoyance, though the shudder that ran through her body as he traced her skin was perhaps a more clear indication of her mood than the half-hearted grimace that tugged at her lips.

Dean stepped closer, brushing a kiss over the offending mark and nuzzling her cheek as he reached up and began pulling the hair pins loose.

"Leave your hair down," he husked, his forehead pressed against her temple, as his fingers worked through to the ends of her hair, releasing it from its constraints.

Jo turned toward him and closed her eyes at the sensation of the feather light kisses he had begun to pepper across her cheek and jaw.

Momentarily forgetting their pressing engagement with yet another dead body, Jo impatiently sought out his lips, and instigated a hungry kiss that left them both slightly breathless when they finally parted.

"Okay," she panted, her lips still tingling from the sensation of their kisses, "I'm going to get Sam... and... I guess, Garth."

She frowned distastefully. Yet she had to admit, the idea of spending the next few hours in the company of their new counterpart was most definitely a much needed mood killer.

Dean's expression mirrored hers, and he simply nodded, reaching for a fresh white shirt from the gym bag on the counter, which he hurriedly shrugged on.

Less than ten minutes later and the four hunters were assembled, armed, and headed toward the Maddeson house. Some in considerably better spirits than others.

* * *

><p><strong>N. – We hope you all had a wonderful December and or holiday season. We are accepting belated Chrismukkah gifts in the form of reviews. *sneaky grins***


	27. Chapter 27

_**Episode 9 – Part 3**_

'_**Toy Story**_

_**x-x-x**_

With weapons drawn, team Winchester moved through the moonlit yard as stealthily as was humanly possible, with Garth bumbling in their wake. The gangly hunter tripped over the child's bike that lay abandoned in the yard, before then stumbling into a jungle gym, banging his head on an overhead bar, and cussing loud enough to wake several neighbourhood guard dogs.

"Shhhhhh!" Dean hissed, rounding scornfully upon Garth, who shrank back into the shadows of the nearby garage, and instead succeeded in setting off the security light. The entire lawn was instantly bathed in blinding light, and Sam, Dean and Jo simultaneously cried out as they threw hands and arms up towards their faces to shield their eyes from the beams.

"Nice going, Garth," Sam growled, blinking away the spots that danced in front of his eyes desperately. Garth swallowed, his expression wholly apologetic, although none of his fellow comrades could tell as much in their blind, disorientated states.

"Sorry guys," Garth lamented, kicking at a sod with his boot and jamming his gun into the pockets of his green slacks. Straightening up and attempting to muster as much dignity as possible, despite the tears streaming down his face, Dean shoved his handgun back into his hip holster, and marched across the lawn towards the screen door.

"Garth, why don't you keep the engine warm?" Sam suggested, his tone lacking in its usual cordiality as Jo rolled her eyes and followed in Dean's wake, stumbling a little as her vision was still righting itself.

Turning off the beam of his flashlight, Sam came to a stop in front of the back door he assumed led to the kitchen. Peering through the darkness, he could just about make out the gently swinging figure that hung menacingly in the centre of the room from a rafter.

"Okay, I see the babysitter," Sam said with a wince, gulping as he began picking the lock.

"You... Wait out here," Dean hissed at Garth, jabbing his finger at him pointedly to emphasize that now was not the time for argument. Garth sighed dejectedly, and dug his hands into his pockets.

"What am I supposed to do out here?" Garth whined.

Dean's eyes narrowed, "I don't know, count squirrels or something. But whatever you do, do it quietly."

Jo affixed a similar glare upon her face, and Garth could do no more than repeat a heavy hearted sigh of defeat.

"We're in," Sam announced, stepping back as he, Dean and Jo passed him, and he heard the unmistakable click of safety catches being released.

"Garth, head back to the car," Sam insisted, this time his voice a little gentler, "we may need to call for back up and extra weapons once we know what we're dealing with here."

Garth sucked in a breath, almost puffing out his chest as a show of his own importance, as Dean looked on with a roll of his eyes.

"Just try not to accidentally shoot anyone," he scoffed, watching the other hunter bow his head and shuffle away along the garden path.

Dean and Sam turned to Jo, who had mounted a stool from the breakfast bar and was busily sawing at the rope suspending the teen from the ceiling with her father's knife. Jo swallowed the lump in her throat, and glanced wordlessly down at Dean as the final strands of the jump rope yielded, and the body of the girl dropped into the waiting arms of the hunter. Dean laid the girl effortlessly down on the kitchen floor, before sweeping his palm across her eyes, and closing her open lids. He could do little, however, about the terror-stricken expression that had contorted her pretty and delicate features. His heart bled for the parents, who would be forced to identify their daughter in such a way come the morning.

"I'm going to head up, see if I can find Mr. Maddeson and Rachel," Sam whispered, drawing his gun in front of himself and creeping towards the staircase.

"Should we try to find the fuse box?" Jo suggested, shooting a glance at Dean, who shook his head in a moment of overwhelming decisiveness. Something about the situation was horribly awry, aside from the babysitter who had been strangled by a jump rope. Dean could not put his finger on the source of his unease, but he knew that he was not about to allow the three of them to split up completely in the Maddeson home.

A thump from the floorboards above them brought the couple to a standstill, and their gazes rose to the ceiling as the beams of their flashlights crossed toward the source of the noise.

Jo arched an eyebrow gesturing out toward the hall, and Dean nodded in silent reply as they carefully stepped around the dead body and made their way toward the stairs.

Jo winced as her foot landed on the first step and it creaked beneath her weight. Picking her way carefully up the rest of the flight, she reached the top with a sigh of relief, Dean following close behind her.

"Sam?" Dean hissed, keeping his flashlight trained on the ground as he edged across the expansive landing and peered down the hallway in search of his sibling. His brow furrowed as he squinted to make out his brother's imposing and usually quite obvious figure, but the hall was empty, and an eerie silence had settled upon the house.

"I don't like this... something's off," Dean said suspiciously, his hunter senses now well and truly on edge. His instincts were seldom wrong, and the absence of both Rich Maddeson and his young daughter was unsettling.

"Let's find the kid's room," Jo whispered, taking the lead and beginning to edge toward a long line of closed doors.

"Jo, wait up!" Dean's brows furrowed, and he rolled his eyes in exasperation as he stalked off after her.

She paused immediately in front of one particular door, where a large wooden sign decorated with pink ballerina shoes hung in the centre

Jo hesitated, pausing to reassure herself with Dean's proximity, before she wrapped her hand around the doorknob and pushed it quickly. The door swung open, and Jo's flashlight sliced through the darkness. Dean turned around, pressing his back against Jo's and, as one, the couple shuffled into the bedroom, their weapons ready.

Together they inched past the miniature white four poster bed, complete with My Little Pony sheets, and towards the slatted wooden door adjacent to it, from behind which was emanating a soft and indiscernible sound.

The hunters exchanged concerned looks, before Dean raised the three middle fingers on his left hand and silently counted down to zero. Jo yanked open the closet door, and Dean pointed his gun into the midst of the walk-in space with purpose.

However, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open at the improbability of the sight that greeted him.

Sam's eyes widened as the beam of Jo's flashlight shone down onto the ropes that held his hands bound behind his back, and he shuffled irritably as if trying to warn them to make a brisk exit.

"What the..." Dean began, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest as he cast his disbelieving gaze over Rich and his daughter, both similarly bound and gagged and hidden away behind a plethora of floral prints and pink tulle.

Jo froze, suddenly hearing a sound behind her that instantly turned her blood to ice. Closing her eyes momentarily and taking a steadying breath, Jo turned and cast the beam around the child's bedroom.

"Dean..." she said hurriedly, reaching out blindly to tug on his jacket. Dean ignored her, being in the process of stooping down to free his brother and the other hostages.

"DEAN!" Jo yelled, slapping his arm with slightly more force than she intended.

"Jo, what?!" Dean hissed, suddenly wheeling around and releasing an audible gasp as his gaze befell the sight that had Jo rooted to the spot in both fear and utter disbelief.

Her eyes never once leaving the figure of the porcelain doll standing before them, wielding a spray can of deodorant and a lighter, with a truly menacing smile spread across her painted rosebud lips, Jo simply squeaked, "Run."

**x-x-x**

Garth drummed both hands simultaneously against the dash of the Impala as he found himself becoming increasingly lost in the drum beat of the retro rock song playing on the radio. He knew that Dean would never allow such traumatic treatment of his baby, but Garth continued nonetheless, still placidly seething over the Winchesters' dismissal of his help with the mission.

"Think I'm stupid…" Garth grumbled, continuing to pound out the rhythm, his fervour growing with the escalating volume of the track, "I'll show them… I'll bust this case wide open… don't need no hoity-toity, holier than thou Winchesters to…"

Garth trailed off and immediately seized his cellphone as it began to vibrate insistently from its position on the driver seat. Juggling with the phone for several seconds as he struggled to find purchase on it with his sweaty palms, Garth flipped the screen open and answered in a breathless, delighted rush.

"Dean?" he pressed, his tone eager and his eyes alight with the prospect of being needed.

The excited tone with which Dean found himself greeted did not go unnoticed but he continued on, mindful of the pressing issue at hand. Not to mention the pounding on the bedroom door, where he and Jo now found themselves seeking temporary refuge.

"We got a little situation in here…"

Garth frowned, struggling to hear the hunter who was whispering at an almost inaudible volume, "Situation?"

"Call Bobby, tell him we got ourselves some kind of… possessed doll, I don't know… but this thing has already got Sammy, the homeowner and his kid tied up in the closet. We need you to go and speak to Joel Maddeson, find out what the hell's going on with 'Chucky' so we can break up this little tea party…" Dean paused as he received no reply, "Garth? You there?"

Garth nodded his head vigorously, and a blush rose up his cheeks as he realised nobody could actually see him. But embarrassment was sadly not a new sensation to the hunter, so he cleared his throat and carried on undeterred.

"Uh, sure thing, Dean-meister. You guys just sit tight, 'The Garth' is on the case."

**x-x-x**

Dean flipped his phone closed and muttered through a wry smile, "Well I feel so much better now."

Jo stood pressed up against the door, gripping the handle tightly as she struggled to pull it closed against the rhythmic banging that assaulted the wood. Dean grunted as he shoved a nearby dresser across the wooden floor, his shoulder jarring as it struck the solid oak.

An eerily mechanical voice called out to them repeatedly from the hallway, "Time to play!"

Filled with renewed purpose, Dean pushed the dresser the final few feet, and he and Jo heaved a simultaneous sigh of relief as the door now only rattled against the frame as their attacker continued their frenzied efforts to reach them.

"We gotta get to Sammy and the others," Dean stated, glancing around the room as he tried to hurriedly formulate a plan.

"Sure," Jo replied, shooting Dean a pointed look as she inquired, "you volunteering to go toe to toe with that thing?"

Dean merely shook his head, wincing at the suggestion. Jo's responding smile was forced but bright.

"Didn't think so," she admonished, sidling closer to Dean and not even bothering to supress a shudder as the doll continued to pound against the door.

"What if she… it… sets the whole God-damn house on fire?" Dean demanded in a desperate whisper. Jo's eyes widened and she shook her head, pressing her index finger to her lips.

"Don't give it ideas!" she scolded, glaring at Dean askance.

"It's a freakin' possessed Tiny Tears with at least two murders under its belt and three people tied up in the closet," Dean sniped, "I don't think it needs help on the psychotic ideas front."

Jo huffed, arching an eyebrow as she saw Dean's face cloud over with what resembled quiet thought, "Dean? Sharing is caring."

Dean shrugged, his brow furrowed as he replied uncertainly, "Pretty sure they did the whole possessed doll thing on The X Files once… Now that was some good TV."

Jo sighed, but given their current predicament, she was ready to grasp at straws, "Okay, so… how did the _TV show _get rid of the thing?"

Dean blew out an unsteady breath, and he merely bobbed his head non-commitally as he sensed Jo's impending disdain for his honest reply. "I don't know. That was back in the day, and… Scully had this whole 'hot science chick' thing going on and… I think there was maybe a microwave?"

"Awesome," Jo grumbled, her brown eyes widening as an almighty bang sounded against the door, and Dean and Jo both visibly started as the head of an axe penetrated the wood panel.

"Out the window," Jo directed, physically shoving Dean in the direction of the window, which she hurriedly swung open.

Dean's face visibly paled as he peered out into the darkness at the significant distance to the ground. Falling would almost certainly result in death, or at least serious injury, and heights had never really been Dean's favourite thing.

Jo sighed and rolled her eyes, "Seriously, Dean. Don't tell me you haven't done your fair share of climbing in and out of bedroom windows."

"I resent that implication," Dean replied, gulping as he leaned out of the window and mentally attempted to gauge the depth of the drop.

Jo jumped again as the axe head penetrated the door frame a second time, sending shards of wood flying across the room.

"Move it along here, Dean-o," Jo urged, tucking her hair behind her ears as she shot another, nervous glance at the door.

"Uh, not gonna happen, Harvelle," said Dean, suddenly pulling his head back in through the window, and grasping Jo's elbow as he steered her towards the centre of the room.

"What?" Jo demanded, her eyes ablaze as she stared at Dean, "this is no time to let a little fear of heights…"

Jo trailed off as Dean gestured out of the window and towards the nearby drainpipe. A line of around thirty toy green soldiers, the kind that Dean had relished as a child, were busily shimmying up the drainpipe, their miniscule eyes aglow with an eerie light.

"Well I guess that's something you don't see every day," breathed Jo, sounding distinctly mystified by the implausible sight.

"I'm guessing this is more than just a possessed doll," Dean stated, his eyes suddenly shooting to the bedroom doorway, the upper panel of which had now entirely given way to the axe's assault.

"Oh sh…" Jo began, as the dresser that Dean had only minutes ago positioned in front of the door with difficulty, suddenly spun across the room, leaving the doorway exposed. The lock of the door let out a sickening click, and in the next moment Dean and Jo were grabbing for each other as they scrambled towards the en-suite bathroom.

**x-x-x**

Joel Maddeson sat on the edge of an armchair, his eyes narrowed into slits as he regarded the police officer before him with abject confusion.

"I don't really know what else to tell you, Officer…" he faltered, unable to remember the name of the detective who had arrived on his door step some ten minutes earlier.

"Caine," Garth drawled, removing his sunglasses and shooting the man what he hoped was a confident smile as he tucked the aviator shades into his breast pocket and paused dramatically, "so… you say you found the doll inside the asylum… and you just… brought it home?"

Joel nodded, clearing his throat as he was suddenly ashamed of his actions, but simultaneously confused as to their relevance. "Yeah, I… I mean there were two of them in there, both still in their boxes. I… So I gave one to Rachel, and… and the other we uh… we donated to the church sale. Officer, I'm sorry, but… how is this relevant to what happened to my wife?"

"You been working at Hellingly long, Mr. Maddeson?" Garth inquired, cocking his head as he surveyed the older man, who rubbed his grizzled jaw in obvious confusion.

"Going on twenty years now," Joel replied, sitting back in his chair and drawing his cardigan across his chest. Garth had expected to rouse Mr. Maddeson from slumber upon arriving at his home, given that it was now gone three in the morning. However, it appeared that his brief stint in police custody being questioned for the grisly murder of his wife, and the fact that his once happy family home had been rendered a crime scene, had hardly been conducive to proper rest, and Garth had discovered Mr. Maddeson drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle of vodka in the total darkness of his lounge.

"You ever… notice anything…" Garth began, waving one hand almost airily above himself as he struggled to find a way to subtly pose the questions he needed to ask.

"Look, officer, if you've busted in here in the middle of the night to ask me some dumb-ass questions about whether I've ever heard the rattling of chains over at Hellingly, then you picked the wrong guy and the wrong damned week," Joel stated bitterly, his eyes now narrowed at the hunter, who hurriedly shook his head.

"Naw, naw… of course not," Garth said quickly, shaking his head and scoffing at the suggestion. Joel seemed to relax somewhat at that, taking another long swig from his vodka bottle.

A moment passed in total silence, before Garth interjected, "But if I was?"

"Then I'd tell you straight, I don't believe in all that crap. The only crazy thing I've ever seen up there are those God damn kids playing around with Ouija boards and chanting bullshit like they're Sabrina the god damn teenaged witch."

Garth paused, "Were any of these kids playing around up there lately? Say, in the last couple of days?"

Joel blanched at Garth's slightly leading tone, "Yeah… I kicked a teeny bopper coven out of there just the other night…"

"The night you brought home the dolls?"

Joel reached blindly for his glass of vodka, "Officer… Exactly what department did you say you were with, again?"

Garth sprang to his feet, already reaching for his cell phone as he made a start toward the door, "Thank you for your time, sir, you've really been a big help… a big help."

**x-x-x**

After determining that the round, frosted, single pane in the bathroom was far too narrow for either of the hunters to even hope to squeeze out of, they had been left with little other choice than to sit tight in the momentary lull, and wait for Garth to provide the back-up he continually threatened.

"It's kind of quiet out there," Jo whispered, tucking her legs into her chest further to allow Dean more space in the tub that they had both squashed into in the absence of any significant floor space in the modest sized en-suite.

Dean listened intently for a moment before, hearing not a murmur from behind the bathroom door, he nodded his agreement.

"I could always…" Jo began, her gaze flitting to Dean, who immediately shook his head and reached across to capture her left hand in his.

"Don't even think about it, Harvelle," he cautioned, brushing his fingertips across the back of her hand and feeling his heart flutter as the pad of his index finger brushed the stones set in a familiar ring.

Jo shrugged, smiling at Dean, who let out a sigh that sounded more bored than defeated. Although he was hard pressed to think of many at the present time, he was certain he had been in worse jams and escaped unscathed, and he downright refused to meet his maker at the miniature hands of a piece of pottery with hair. It was just a matter of time of waiting for Garth to come through; although admittedly, Dean was unsure as to how long they would be forced to await such a required miracle.

The couple glanced around, desperately trying to find an escape route away from murderous dolls and possessed toy soldiers. Dean's eyes narrowed as he leant his head back to look up at the ceiling, and he and Jo exchanged brief shrugs of agreement as they simultaneously spied the trap door up to the attic.

Scrambling out of the tub, Dean stood on the edge of the heavy porcelain bath, and shoved the wooden trap door hard with the heel of his hand. He slammed his fist against the wood until the panel eventually gave way, and he pushed it across the attic floor and fumbled for the flashlight in his pocket.

"Ladies first," he insisted with a charming grin, reaching out for Jo in a rush to get her out of the room, as the pounding on the bathroom door suddenly returned with vigour.

Jo placed one foot into Dean's waiting, cupped hands and stretched her arms above her head in order to haul herself up into the attic. She crawled into the darkened space with ease before turning and stretching one arm back into the bathroom in order to help Dean to make the same ascent to safety. Jo grunted with the effort of pulling her boyfriend up to the loft space, and the two fell backwards in a tangle of limbs at the very moment the en suite door yielded to the assault initiated upon it. Jo held the flashlight whilst Dean fumbled for the panel to close the attic space off, and then slid it into place. The two hunters were cast into almost absolute darkness, and Jo gripped the shaft of the flashlight tighter, sweeping the beam across the attic in an arc.

"My parents used to keep my Dad's old Rock'em Sock'em Robots in our attic," Dean whispered, shooting a worried glance at Jo, "kind of hope these folks aren't into nostalgic hoarding."

Jo peered around, noting that the attic appeared to be mercifully mostly empty, save for a collection of cardboard boxes in one corner which were marked clearly in black pen as Christmas decorations.

"Ok, what now?" Jo inquired, balancing tentatively on her hands and knees and being careful not to position herself over the parts of the attic that were devoid of floorboards.

Dean edged carefully toward a small round window, and he rubbed his jacket sleeve against the glass to get a look at the street down below. Noting the absence of the Impala outside the house, Dean grumbled under his breath, trying to quell his concern for the car being in Garth's dubious hands.

"Now, we need to get to Sammy…" Dean stated, trying to gauge on the attic floor approximately which room they were over. The child's bedroom was at the back of the house, so Dean stepped carefully over the large wooden beams in that direction.

The sudden vibrating of his phone caused both he and Jo to start, and he fumbled hurriedly to retrieve it from his pocket before the strains of 'AC/DC' gave away their location.

"Thank God," Dean widened his eyes at the name flashing across the screen, and he quickly flipped the phone open and held it up to his ear, "Bobby, hey… talk to me…"

"Hey Dean," Bobby said jovially, amusement evident in his voice. Dean blew out a sigh and rolled his eyes, realising that he was in for a hard time from Bobby before the old hunter even considered letting some useful information slip out.

"Believe you got yourselves a little situation over there," Bobby stated, barking laughter rumbling from his chest as he was no longer able to contain his mirth. "Garth said Cindy has you by the short and curlies, and Action Man's got Sam trussed up in the closet."

"Ha, ha, ha," Dean hissed, shaking his head in Jo's direction to demonstrate the current fruitlessness of the conversation. He covered the mouthpiece of the cell with his palm and whispered, "Bobby's busy trying to be witty."

"Tell him not to hurt himself," Jo groused, shaking her head at the poor timing of the emergence of Bobby's sense of humour.

"I heard that," Bobby objected in a low growl, suddenly growing sober as he cleared his throat.

Rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, Dean tried to appeal to Bobby's better nature.

"Seriously, Bobby... things are getting pretty hairy up here, so if you've got somethin' worth a dime..."

Dean paused as a characteristically grumpy sigh resounded, and Bobby finally appeared to be done with his teasing.

"Quit your bellyaching, it's just a possessed doll, nothing to get your panties in a bunch about."

Trying to brush off Bobby's casual, and wholly amused tone of voice, Dean gripped the phone a little tighter to his ear, as he hissed, "And? How do we kill this thing? Wait, how do we know the doll's the uh...you know, the ring leader here? What if it's a Carebear or Spongebob calling the shots?"

Dean winced at the sentence he found spewing from his lips, and the ridiculous aspect of yet another of their hunts. Life was beginning to resemble one lame Walt Disney movie after another.

Bobby sighed irritably, "Garth spoke to the dead grandma's husband, turns out he swiped a couple of dolls from the nut house he works at... same night a bunch of dumb kids were there trying to raise the dead."

"Well, that's just awesome," Dean groused, "don't kids throw house parties behind their parents' backs and get blind drunk for fun anymore?"

"I miss those days," Jo lamented, thinking back momentarily to a simpler time in life where the dead were raised by dark mojo loving psychopaths who actually knew what they were doing, as opposed to bored teenagers who had listened to a few too many gothic rock tunes on their i-pods.

"My best guess is, burn the thing," Bobby answered, his tone suggesting now that he was growing bored with Dean's whining, and the conversation in general, although Garth's sudden phone call for help had provided him with the best laugh he had had all week.

"Can't Garth just burn the bones of the dead dude possessing it?" Dean demanded, his throat closing up at the very thought of taking on the animated doll, which he was certain to be having nightmares about for weeks to come, should they indeed make it out of the Maddeson house alive.

"There were literally hundreds of inmates in that asylum over the years, Dean," Bobby answered, somewhat incredulous, "you willing to wait it out in there whilst Garth digs 'em all up?"

A momentary pause and a pained sigh signalled that Dean had made his mind up.

"Okay, we burn the thing," he agreed, adding as an afterthought, "thanks, Bobby."

He flipped his phone closed without waiting for a reply, and turned to address Jo who was busily scoring dried paint from around another entrance hatch to the attic with her father's hunting knife.

"I figure since this window back here looks over the front of the house, this should set us down somewhere in the hall," she stated, her teeth grazing her bottom lip as she winced with the effort of chiselling through the long-dried paint.

Dean nodded, glancing furtively around the attic through the beam of his flashlight in search of anything that could be utilised as a weapon.

"I'm guessing guns aren't really going to slow these things down," Dean mused, shaking his head as his search produced nothing more promising than a baseball bat and a hockey stick. He hefted the bat up and passed the hockey stick to Jo, who slipped her knife back into the sheath on her belt before testing the weight of her newest weapon in her hands. She nodded in satisfaction, certain that if she could get in a few good swings, she could definitely inflict some damage.

"If this thing is possessed by the spirit of a dead dude… like, singular… then what the hell is up with all the other toys in this house?" Dean inquired, eyeing the hatch with trepidation as Jo approached his side.

Jo cocked her head to one side and paused as a sudden clattering sound shattered the eerie silence that had fallen around them.

"I don't know, maybe whatever spirit those kids managed to raise brought a little entourage with it. Or, they were into some pretty heavy duty magic themselves?"

Dean grimaced at the choices presented to him, "I don't like either option. Let's just get this over with and torch the little bitch."

Jo bobbed her head in agreement, kneeling down as Dean did likewise and began to lift the hatch. The hallway below was strangely quiet, and a shudder ran up Dean's spine as the sudden whistle of a tiny steam train made him start.

Jo followed the lights of the miniature locomotive, and it whistled aggressively as a short puff of smoke blew out of its chimney.

"There goes the Polar Express," Jo arched an eyebrow, daring to chance a brief grin at the obvious disdain of her boyfriend.

Dean laughed softly, edging her away from the access hatch so he could begin to manoeuvre himself down ahead of her.

"To infinity and beyond!" Dean quipped in a whisper, dropping down lightly into the hallway and landing in a crouching position. Jo rolled her eyes.

"Dork," she accused, before landing at Dean's side with a barely audible plop. The hunters stood quickly and pressed themselves against the wall, before beginning to slide towards Rachel's bedroom, the door of which was barely ajar now. Jo held her hockey stick higher, ready for action, whilst Dean allowed the bat to dangle at his side. His reflexes were sharp enough that he would be ready at the slightest sign of trouble.

Hooking his thumb in the direction of the door, Dean nodded at Jo. They crossed the hallway together, positioning themselves either side of the door frame, Dean on the left and Jo on the right. The hunters were almost holding their breath, their ears pricked up as they strained to hear even the slightest ominous sound from within the house. From another room, the train let out a shrill whistle.

"You take the hostages, I'll take the toys," Dean murmured, so quietly that Jo was forced to read his lips in the pitch blackness of the hallway.

Dean pushed the door open with the tip of the bat, and the two hunters squinted in the darkness as they tried to sweep the ground for tiny predators.

Dean halted all of a sudden, his arm shooting out to block Jo's entrance to the room.

"Trip wire," he muttered, nodding down toward the ground where a length of string lay in wait for them, tied to the handle of a nearby dresser and the bottom of the bed frame.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed, quickly hiding his eyes behind his arm as a blinding light shone unrelentingly into his face, and the whirring of tiny helicopter blades sent a blast of cold air against his skin.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jo spied a second airborne helicopter, as it swooped across the bedroom dragging a large net behind the tail.

"Incoming," Jo shouted, raising her hockey stick and swiping with clear intent toward the approaching remote control toy.

Dean batted at the rotary blades as the helicopter darted toward his face like a winged insect. Rolling his shoulder back as far as he could, Dean struck out with the baseball bat.

The helicopter was sent wheeling across the bedroom, and it struck the opposite wall hard before the propeller snapped off and it clattered to the floor. It twitched and jumped about the carpet for a few moments before finally falling still, and Jo watched in amazement as a visible green smoke rose up from the toy before dissipating in the air around it quickly.

"It's a spell," Jo called to Dean, "the other toys are a distraction. The spirit's in the doll."

"On it," Dean yelled back, suddenly hitting the floor as a basketball sailed across the room as if hurled by an expert hand. Jo whirled on her heel, beginning to start out towards the closet, but stopping as she found her path barred by an inflatable dinosaur that came up to her waist.

"Uh, Dean?" Jo called, her eyes on the dinosaur, which blinked back at her through drawn on lids, "sweetheart?"

"Little busy…" Dean puffed out as he ducked under the bed before the basketball could drum itself on the crown of his head.

"You did say you'd take the toys…" Jo reminded him, sighing as she raised the hockey stick above her and waited for the dinosaur to pounce.

Jo's irritation was short lived as the toy lunged for her, seemingly trying to snap at her arms with inflatable teeth.

"You guys are just pissing me off now," Jo grunted, surprised by the sheer strength the dinosaur possessed. She spied Dean from across the room as he hastily batted away an onslaught of various sports balls like he was at little league practice. The brightly coloured contents of a plastic ball pit now appeared to be hurtling in his direction.

Stumbling backwards, Jo didn't notice the line-up of plastic soldiers that had assembled behind her, and she landed with a thud against the wall, sending a plastic cat shaped wall clock tumbling to the ground.

Though also inflated, the toy's teeth were surprisingly pointy, and Jo cursed under her breath as it continued to snap its jaws at her, eyes blazing red.

As it meandered towards her with stubby arms outstretched, Jo grinned, suddenly spying the sure fire way to thwart her new nemesis. Waiting for the dinosaur to come within arm's reach, Jo leapt forwards and seized the rubber stopper affixed to its inner thigh between her thumb and index finger. A sharp tug was all it took, and the stopper was free. The dinosaur began to shuffle backwards, collapsing in on itself as the air whooshed from its body.

With a satisfied smirk, Jo pushed herself up into a standing position, kicking out at a ratty teddy bear that shambled towards her with its arms held out like a zombie, and she dove into the walk in closet in which Sam and the Maddesons were imprisoned. Jo set to work on their bonds with her knife, shaking her head as she first cut Sam loose from the thick length of neon coloured elastic bands that had been used to subdue him. The French jump rope had been wound around and around his wrists numerous times, and Jo winced in sympathy as her knife cut through each band, and they snapped back against Sam's bare skin.

"Thanks. You guys okay?" Sam asked, blinking repeatedly as his head throbbed and an angry egg sized lump protruded from his forehead.

"We're fine," Jo replied, frowning in concern as she swept Sam's hair back to examine the bruise and seemed poised to ask how it had happened.

"I'll... explain later," Sam coughed in abject embarrassment, all but blushing at his fellow hunter as he climbed to his feet and helped her free Rich Maddeson and his daughter.

Jo hustled the little girl and her father toward the bedroom door, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Dean who was tackling the advances of a large, stuffed snake toy.

His temper now well and truly frayed, Dean managed to uncoil the fuzzy creature from around his neck, before throwing it onto the ground and rapidly firing three rounds into its hot pink, polka-dotted body.

Rachel visibly flinched at the sound of each gunshot, and Jo clamped a hand on her shoulder and gently tried to ease her toward the doorway.

"Take Rachel outside, Mr. Maddeson," Jo instructed, handing the hockey stick to the man, who received it with a bemused look, "you may need to break a window… and watch out for toys."

"Watch out for…" the man repeated, his voice shaking as he merely nodded his head dumbly, obviously too traumatised by what he had seen thus far to really offer much more. Rachel gripped her father's elbow, her eyes round.

"Hey…" she suddenly piped up, releasing her father's arm and pointing into the hallway, "my doll!"

"Uh oh," Sam mouthed, spinning around in unison with Jo, who fumbled for her handgun even as the doll lumbered towards them. Dean ran up behind his girlfriend and brother, panting from the exertion of dispatching his stuffed assailants. His head lolled back momentarily and Dean let out a frustrated growl.

"Give me a freakin' break," he yelled towards the ceiling, his hands forming claws at his sides.

"Sam, where's your gun?" Jo demanded, drawing her own weapon in front of her and ushering the civilians they were now bound to protect behind them.

"My doll!" Rachel protested, straining to break through the throng of adults and retrieve her toy. "Mara!"

"I don't know, it was gone when I woke up," Sam answered, his eyes sweeping the room as he struggled to locate a suitable weapon.

"Dean?" Jo checked, glancing at her boyfriend momentarily, who shook his head.

"Out of bullets," he replied, bending to collect the baseball bat that had been pried out of his hand earlier by the constricting tail of the snake.

"Perfect," Jo said, her overtly cheerful tone a contrast to her wide, saucer-like eyes.

"You got a microwave?" Dean barked, suddenly turning to Rich Maddeson, who gazed dumbly back at the hunters, his blinking stilted. In his mind, Dean was replaying Agent Scully's solution to a very similar problem.

"No, I don't believe using radiation to cook your food is healthy," Rich replied seriously, all thoughts of maniac dolls momentarily forgotten. "Microwaves are proven carcinogens, you know."

Quickly fumbling in his pocket, Dean cursed aloud as he realized his lighter was missing. The disdainful gaze levelled at him by the little girl would have amused him in other less dire circumstances.

"Okay, uh... how do you feel about barbecues?" Dean countered, "you got one of them?"

Rich nodded, confused by the line of questioning, "Well, yeah... Sure. Out back."

"Awesome," Dean sighed, beginning to formulate a plan even as the doll's eyes began to glow with a disconcerting green light. Rachel stumbled back against her father, as the toy's usually childlike voice became a series of growls and slurs.

"Dean?" Jo began, assisting Sam in dealing with a gathering of toy soldiers who were advancing toward them from atop a nearby dresser. Sam batted at a kite that had flown toward his face, the ribbons and string trying desperately to wrap around his throat. He tore at the strings, and Jo seized the hockey stick from Rich before using it to administer the possessed item a thorough beating.

"Stay here, keep them safe," Dean directed, advancing toward the doll with obvious intent. He hesitated as the doll's glassy eyes focused upon him, and it's painted lips seemed to almost part, despite the very impossibility of it. The next instant, a cloud of white smog spilled from the doll, and the toy fell back onto the carpet, where it lay prone. Now, however, Dean was nose to nose with the enraged spirit of a young woman. Tendrils of muddy brown, poker straight hair stood on end around her face, which was gaunt and thin, and her eyes were two deep, black pools set a little too far into her skull for her to ever have seemed anything other than creepy. She was wearing what appeared to be a long nightgown, and her bare feet slid against the carpet as she advanced upon Dean in a shambling gait.

Shaking his head and swallowing hard, Dean ran past the aggravated spirit, seized the now uninhabited doll, and dove towards the stairs. He was aware of a strong wind whipping up in the hallway behind him, and of the frenzied screams of the ghost as she threatened pursuit, before both Jo and Sam's voices rose up behind him.

"Hey, over here!" Jo snarled, and Dean smiled as he affectionately imagined her slashing at the spirit with her father's knife, her lips set in a determined line and her features devoid of fear.

Digging his phone out of his pocket, Dean careered down the stairs, reaching the hall below with such speed that his boots slid on the wooden floors. He quickly punched in a number and held the phone to his ear, as he reached the confines of the kitchen and shone a flashlight around the room.

"Come on, come on," he coaxed, his heart hammering in his chest until Garth finally answered.

"Hey man, how's it going? You hogtied Polly Pocket yet?" Garth crooned.

"You still out front?" Dean asked gruffly, not wasting time on any pleasantries.

"Of course, dude. I went to speak to the old man, then I came right back here... like you told me to," Garth stated, a certain degree of pride in the fact he had followed orders.

Dean side-stepped the corpse of the babysitter, and tried to open the back door without success. The windows similarly failed to open, and Dean could only assume the spirit was using magic to keep them trapped inside. The barbecue sat teasingly out on the decking and noting the electric stove, Dean hastily re-evaluated his plan. His eyes narrowed as the flashlight illuminated the bottom panel of the back door, and he smiled in anticipation as he pushed at the old cat flap fitted there. It swung open easily.

"I need you to come around back, and flambé this thing. Bring the gas can out the trunk, and a lighter... matches... whatever. Just get your ass over here."

Minutes later, Dean was passing the doll through the cat flap to Garth, amidst the sounds of breaking furniture upstairs and the screams of Rachel Maddeson. Garth doused the doll in gas before dropping it onto the lit barbeque, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the tell-tale shriek of feral spirit being forcibly laid to rest from the landing.

Mere moments later, the latch on the back door clicked, and it swung open, allowing the inhabitants of the house the escape route they had so desperately needed a half hour before.

Sam and Jo rounded the corner into the kitchen, followed by the Maddesons, who were shaking and clinging onto each other as though they would both be traumatised for the rest of their days. Dean shot a glance at Sam, his lips twitching to form a smile as he spotted the sucker on arrow pinned to the centre of his brother's forehead.

"Don't ask," Sam said firmly, simply stalking out of the house and into the yard, muttering to himself under his breath as he walked.

Rich Maddeson's eyes ticked guiltily to the body of the baby sitter in the centre of the kitchen floor, and he stepped in front of his daughter to purposefully shield her view. His hands rested on her shoulders and he looked the little girl square in the eyes.

"Tomorrow, we're donating everything but the Lego and Monopoly to Goodwill," Rich Maddeson said firmly, blowing out a breath and gulping.

Rachel simply nodded in compliance as she replied eagerly, "Ok, Daddy."

Garth held up his hands as the group assembled out on the decking, "Don't worry, I took care of the other doll, she's toast... pretty much literally. Had to wake up the good reverend and his lady, but I guess it's better than being murdered in their bed."

Dean nodded, staring up at the house, which now seemed strangely silent. Rich shook his head from side to side, struggling to make sense of the evening's events.

"Was that...?" he began.

"Yep," Jo drawled.

"And the doll..." Rich winced as he rubbed his forehead in utter confusion and disbelief.

"Yeah," Dean affirmed.

The man paused momentarily, "And it...You know..."

"Yeah," Sam patted him on the shoulder and nodded toward the house, "you should probably call the cops now."

Rich's mouth dropped open and he pointed between Dean, Jo, and Garth, "But I thought you guys were..."

Once again, the hunters interrupted his train of thought.

Garth wrapped a spindly arm around the man's shoulders and led him away from the group, his tone low and somewhat proud, "We're kind of like the Ghostbusters... only without the cool car and funky uniforms."

Dean's eyebrows shot up, as he slung an arm around Jo's waist and drew her closer, "Without the cool car?"

"Oh, God," Sam groaned, noting he still held the plastic arrow in his hand. He tossed the offending item into the shrubbery and jammed his hands in his pockets.

"Let it go, sweetheart," Jo commanded, patting Dean's chest almost sympathetically. Their heads bowed, and emitting simultaneously world weary sighs, the three hunters made their way back to the Impala – all the worse for wear after having their asses handed to them by the contents of a six year old's toy box.

**x-x-x**

After managing a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, the four hunters occupying the motel room had risen to pack their things, say their goodbyes, and hit the road again. Dean had to admit that he was more than a little curious as to what Garth planned to do next, although it was a musing he was determined to keep to himself.

However, as Garth shoved the last pair of his balled up woollen socks into his duffel bag, after first giving them an experimental sniff, he turned to Dean and Sam wearing an expression that made it obvious that such an explanation was imminent, whether they liked it or not.

"Well, I guess I'd better be on my way," Garth stated, hands on hips and chin tilted slightly upward as though he was preparing to launch into some profound speech, "maybe tomorrow, I'll want to settle down, but until tomorrow… I'll just keep moving on."

Dean and Sam exchanged an equally bemused shrug, before Garth slung his bag over his shoulder and shook his head with something that resembled pity.

"The Littlest Hobo?" he tried, glancing between the siblings who still looked utterly clueless, "No? It's a classic! I'm disappointed guys, like, really."

Waving a final goodbye to Jo, who returned the gesture with a feigned smile, Garth trudged toward the door, evidently crestfallen at not having received acknowledgement of his assistance.

Sam cleared his throat pointedly, a gesture which was clearly lost on Dean, so he slapped his brother's arm and nodded over toward the departing hunter. Looking to Jo for further encouragement, Dean cleared his throat, "Uh... Thanks for your help, Garth, you uh... you did real good out there."

A beaming smile suddenly illuminated the man's features, and he bobbed his head in agreement. "You guys weren't too shabby either."

"Thanks," Sam said, hiding a smirk behind a well-timed cough.

"See you around, guys," Garth called over his shoulder, and moments later, the motel room door slammed closed, heralding the exit of their colleague.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Jo suggested hopefully, zipping closed her gym bag and hoisting it up onto her shoulder in an action that left little room for argument.

Dean smiled charmingly and shot a glance over at the corner of the bridal suite.

"I thought maybe you and I could try out that hot tub before we hit the road, maybe t..." he halted suddenly, spying a small pair of rubber ducks dressed as a bride and groom that were positioned on the side of the hot tub.

Swallowing hard, Dean picked up his jacket from a nearby chair and swiped his bag up from the bed.

"Nevermind. Let's get out of here."

Wearing identical grins of amusement, Sam and Jo trailed after Dean, closing the door of the motel bedroom behind – all three glad to be headed back to the sanctity, and more comfortable insanity, of the place they called home.

**The End of Episode Nine**

**(Next Episode – Trip On Love)**


	28. Chapter 28

_**Episode 10 – Part 1**_

'_**Trip On Love'**_

_**x-x-x**_

_**Story, Iowa**_

_**November 13**__**th**__** 2011**_

The bar was warm and dimly lit, easing the patrons through varying degrees of drunkenness with minimal embarrassment.

A juke box played softly in the corner, the beat of the old soul songs setting a wanton rhythm for the couples on the dance floor.

The bartenders glanced up only on occasion; too busy snapping the caps from beer bottles, or flirting with pretty young patrons to even notice the activities of their other customers.

Sam Winchester sat in a booth at the back, squinting to read the print on the papers laid out before him.

Tapping the end of a highlighter pen against his lip, he cast a brief glance toward the dance floor and smiled at the sight that greeted him.

Dean and Jo swayed to the music, her arms around his neck, as he held her tight against his chest, and his hands rested possessively on her hips. They laughed and whispered to each other, for once looking like the cares of the world were not upon them; instead, they looked like any of the other couples assembled around them, and the normality of the scene was refreshing for Sam to behold. Dean whispered into her ear, and Jo threw her head back in laughter, before resting her cheek once more against his chest. They remained happily caught up in each other.

Sam's attention was suddenly focused on the angel beside him, as Castiel let out a heavy hearted sigh.

"I think I am perhaps bored," the celestial being stated, causing Sam to raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"You think you're bored?"

Cas nodded, as he explained, "I have little experience with human emotions, but from what I have read on the subject, I believe I am currently experiencing mild to moderate boredom. I would like to remedy this as soon as possible."

Sam laughed, producing a wad of papers from the booth seat beside him.

"Knock yourself out, Cas."

Castiel skimmed the top paper with little real interest, "You have yet to find a bar manager?"

Sam's gaze remained trained on the resume before him, and he highlighted a pertinent line.

"I guess we haven't really had time. Hunting has kept us pretty busy lately, and it turns out that serving drinks and breaking up fights in a roadhouse isn't on many people's 'dream job' list. It's taken weeks just to get these applicants."

Sam noted Castiel's attention had been drawn away from the papers, and he followed his gaze across the bar to where Dean and Jo were now caught up in a languid yet passionate clinch.

Sam shook his head and smiled at the antics of his amorous sibling, but Castiel appeared deep in thought.

"Is this the correct occasion to say..." Cas winced as he tried to recall the exact words he had heard uttered by humans, particularly of the teenaged variety, "_get a room_?"

Sam laughed, clicking the lid of the highlighter pen on and off as he averted his gaze, knowing exactly the path Dean's hands were destined to take, "Yeah."

"Do you wish me to go tell them?" Castiel inquired, his tone as eager as a permanently impassive angel could get.

Sam let out a guffaw and shook his head.

"God, no!" he replied, pausing to drain his beer bottle before replacing it on the table with his now impressive collection of empties. The sad fact was that Sam and Dean had chugged beers over the years the way some people did orange juice, and the alcohol now had little to no effect on either brother.

Castiel merely frowned, his eyes sweeping the bar as he obviously searched for something to occupy his attention. Sam couldn't help but feel a stab of pity for the angel, who was hardwired not to be content unless saving the world from something particularly nasty. Whilst Sam, Dean and Jo were able to enjoy and revel in the relative quiet that followed in the wake of a successful hunt, the lull until the next job arose only seemed to make Castiel more irritable and antsy.

"I must do something," Cas insisted, leaning towards Sam and removing one of the papers from his hands almost forcibly. Sam relaxed back in his seat, amused, waiting for Castiel to make good on his threat of action.

He seemed to concentrate intently for a moment on the paper, before his features contorted into a frown, and he wadded up the application without so much as reading a single word.

"Hey!" Sam objected, glaring at Castiel with unchecked irritation, "what did you do that for?"

"You do not wish to hire that man," Cas merely stated, his expression still as impassive as it had been five seconds before, whilst apparently concentrating on the document that was now sitting on the edge of the table.

"How would you know that when you didn't even read it?" demanded Sam, reaching for the paper, only to have his hand swatted away by the angel. He chided sternly, "Cas! Quit it."

In a monotone voice that reflected the true level of boredom he had reported, Castiel stated, "Thomas Rohickney, 23 years old, of 219 Gull Heights, is a highschool drop-out with an IQ of 87, a pregnant 17 year old girlfriend, and a dependency on over the counter flu medicine. He spends his weekends having sexual intercourse with his first cousin in the basement of his best friend's mother's home, before returning to the apartment he shares with his girlfriend and smoking his own body weight in reefer. His applications have been rejected by Walmart, Taco Bell, and McDonalds. When he eventually finds gainful employment, Thomas intends to steal from the register, spit in any open food produce, and fail to wash his hands when returning from the bathroom."

Sam stared, unblinking, at the angel, beer bottle poised at his lips and an incredulous expression on his face.

"Wow. I mean... That's..." Sam began, watching as Cas leafed through the remaining pile of applicants.

"Aging adult movie star, racist, gambling addiction..." Castiel let the three resumes flutter to the ground, and he swept the pads of his fingers over the remaining resume with his interest clearly peaked.

"I cannot read this one," he stated, brows furrowed as he read the name over and over without so much as the shoe size of the applicant clear in his mind.

"Is that good or bad?" Sam asked, both eyebrows raised as he patiently waited for a reply.

Castiel stared long and hard at the paper.

"This one," he declared, "you should hire this young woman."

Sam plucked the paper from the table top and read the name aloud, "Sophia Bell? Okay, I guess I'll give her a call tomorrow to set up an interview."

Castiel flashed what constituted for a smile, before he once again began to shift restlessly in his seat.

"Something up, Cas? You've been kind of unsettled tonight?" Sam enquired with slight trepidation. The hunters had come to view the angel as something of a supernatural weather vain, and when Cas' spidey senses started tingling, all hell was usually about to break loose; sometimes literally.

"I'm not sure," he began, a faraway expression suddenly settling on his features, and he closed his eyes as if assessing the very air around them.

Sam turned to keep an eye on Dean and Jo, noting with a disbelieving shake of his head that the couple were still happily using the pretence of dancing to well and truly feel each other up.

From the far edges of the dance floor, Sam watched as a woman suddenly got up from a table, barely using two strides to cross the room before she grabbed a startled man by the sides of his face, and claimed his lips in a frenzied kiss.

The table of friends she had been sitting with all whooped and hollered their amusement and surprise, whilst one particularly drunk woman shouted her encouragement with words that made the tips of Sam's ears burn.

As the couple drew apart, both gasping for air, the man's lips twisted into a shocked but satisfied grin. He allowed the woman to seize his hand, his eyes locked completely on hers and nothing else, as she led him towards the exit wordlessly. Their arms strained as they walked, she a few steps in front, and the overhead lights caught the orange flames emanating from the mouth of the skull tattoo that decorated the man's upper left bicep.

Sam shook his head, returning his attention to Castiel, who was watching the exit swing back and forth with an almost perplexed expression upon his face.

"Earth to Cas," Sam attempted, waving his palm in front of Castiel's face. The angel did not so much as blink, but eventually turned to regard Sam.

"There is something wrong," Castiel announced, his brows now dipped into a deep frown, as his eyes swept the bar with mounting concern.

Sam followed the path of his gaze and shook his head, "No, that's just what drunk people do sometimes, Cas. They act like idiots. Horny idiots."

Castiel's lips were set into a grimace, and he was clearly not going to be deterred from his stance.

Sam smiled tightly, glancing down at his watch and stifling a yawn. The angel remained stoic, folding his arms across his chest as he stared long and hard at the bar.

"Okay, then..." Sam breathed, sighing as he resigned himself to Castiel's less than entertaining company for the remainder of the evening.

**x-x-x**

Jo was the very definition of content, almost purring with satisfaction as Dean's hands swept over her back and he nuzzled his lips against her neck.

"This is nice," she murmured, and her brown eyes shone with a deep happiness that made Dean's heart skip a beat.

"Uh-huh," he replied in agreement, stroking his fingertips over her jaw as he busied himself with brushing feather-light kisses along her cheekbone and finally, the corner of her lips.

Jo ran her fingers across the back of his neck, dipping into the collar of his t-shirt and running gently along the tip of his spine. The smell of cheap aftershave, leather, and gun powder awakened every nerve ending in her body, and the scent that surrounded her was at once arousing and comforting.

Her head came to rest on his shoulder and Jo hugged him impossibly closer. It felt like home, like they were a perfect fit in every way imaginable, and Jo felt her stomach dip at the realisation that she so often felt in his embrace.

"Big day next month," Dean said softly, his eyes creasing with a genuine smile as she lifted her head to meet his gaze. "You and me- a whole year, sweetheart. Who'd have thought, huh?"

"Not me, that's for sure," she giggled as he shot her an indignant frown, and pulled her closer, "right place, right time, I guess."

"Eventually," agreed Dean, brushing aside the last lingering traces of regret at having not acted sooner on his attraction to Jo. It had taken being on the verge of losing her to finally prompt Dean into revealing his feelings for Jo Harvelle and, at the time, in the wake of her mother's death, he had been half afraid that he would do little other than push her further away. Dean knew from experience that grief made people behave in odd ways, such as smashing up their prized classic car after busting their balls for days restoring it to its former glory.

Dean hesitated, reluctant to voice his concerns, but knowing that it had to be done nonetheless.

"It's also been a year since…" he began, his voice soft and his hands now wandering to a more respectful rest stop on the curve of her hip. Jo sucked in a breath and her eyes misted over for just a moment, before she peered up at Dean.

"I know," she replied, swallowing down the sudden lump in her throat with more difficulty than she had anticipated. Sometimes, the longing for her mother and the sadness of her loss were just a dull ache in the back of Jo's mind and heart, but at other times, usually when she least expected, they whirled around inside her like a tornado, threatening to tip her over the edge at any given second. Grief was unpredictable, and Jo had had her fill of it in her young life. Her grip tightened subconsciously on Dean's arm and she returned her head to his shoulder.

Dean thought over his next words carefully and he held her closer as he began, "I think we should do something..." at Jo's questioning glance, he continued, "for you and me, and... something for your Mom."

Jo sighed and simply returned her cheek to his chest, "Maybe. Let's not talk about it now, okay?"

"Whatever you want."

She closed her eyes, relaxing into his embrace, content not to dwell on the upcoming event any further. The couple of beers she had already consumed were acting to pleasantly dull her senses, and she was grateful for the distraction of the music and the ever present sweep of Dean's hands across her back.

Suddenly inhaling deeply, Jo lifted her gaze to his, and for several long moments she was simply content to peer up at him. His green eyes held her in an equally unwavering gaze, and a smile tugged at Dean's lips.

His fingertips danced across the curve of her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing her lips, as she leant into his touch.

Jo blushed under such scrutiny, and Dean shook his head as if not quite believing his luck.

"So beautiful," he murmured, craning his neck to plant a succession of kisses against her lips that quickly become more and more urgent.

Dean grinned, panting breathlessly as he pulled her flush against him, "I'm one lucky son of a bitch."

Jo laughed and arched an eyebrow, bobbing her head in agreement, "Uh-huh... play your cards right Winchester and you might get a whole lot luckier later on."

"That so?" Dean smirked as he contemplated the hundred and one excuses they could utilise to head back to their room. Not that Sam wouldn't see through any of them for even a moment.

Jo was about to retort with a suitably suggestive proposition when the antics of their fellow patrons suddenly caught her attention.

The air around them suddenly felt warm and smothering, and as Jo's dark eyes swept across the room, a frown settled on her pretty face.

"Dean... You want to focus for a second?" she patted him gently on the back, trying to ignore the sensation of his lips against her skin, as he busied himself with dragging kisses down her neck.

"I am," came his muffled reply. Jo's teeth grazed her bottom lip as his tongue swirled against a particularly sensitive spot, and her knees began to feel weak.

"Seriously, Dean-o," Jo scolded, sliding her palm down Dean's arm and squeezing his elbow gently but insistently. With a hearty sigh, Dean removed his lips from her warm skin and lifted his head, his eyes scanning the bar with feigned interest. Although he was determined to find nothing amiss in the near vicinity, and return to his ministrations, he squinted as he took in the scene before him.

Couples were dotted around the bar, all in various steamy clinches, bodies locked together, and tongues working overtime. Dean grimaced as a woman shrugged out of the leather jacket she was wearing, never once breaking her own lips away from the man who was busily raking his hands through her hair. Her fingers began working at the buttons of her lace blouse, and Dean's eyebrows rocketed upwards as he watched her partner fling her roughly against the bar, before her legs locked around his waist.

"Are they…?" Jo began, glancing around the bar to see if anyone else had noticed the x-rated scene unfolding in front of them.

"Uh-huh," admonished Dean, his features contorting into a horrified expression, which Jo found mildly comical given the steamy embrace they had only just stepped away from.

Scouting the bar for his brother and Cas, Dean reached blindly for Jo's hand and began to lead her over toward the booth, where Sam was also now taking in the scene in abject horror.

Jo's mouth dropped open as they passed a couple who were sprawled across one of the tables.

"What's your name, again?" the brunette panted, clawing at her companion's back as he planted sloppy kisses against her throat.

"Jake," he rasped, not missing a beat before he shrugged off his shirt.

"I love you, Jake," the woman said breathlessly, knocking a glass off the table top as she threw her arms above her head in abandon.

Reaching Sam and Castiel, the latter of whom was staring thoughtfully through the crowd of revellers, Dean and Jo drew to a halt.

"Someone spike the beer with catnip?!" Dean said incredulously.

"I have no idea," Sam choked out, suddenly jumping out of his seat as a woman used her entire arm to sweep his collection of beer bottles off the tabletop. She grabbed the hand of a blonde woman and wasted little time in pushing her forcefully onto the surface, her eyes dark with lust. The other woman reciprocated in turn, groaning as her new friend straddled her and lowered her mouth to her cleavage.

"Oh God…" Sam spluttered, stumbling back from the table as Castiel cocked his head in an almost analytical manner to watch the two women. Dean stared, his mouth open wide, and Jo quickly positioned her hand over his eyes.

"Is this still the effects of alcohol?" Cas inquired, his tone genuinely curious, "are these people… horny?"

"Sammy, I think it's time you sat Cas down and gave him 'the talk'," Dean quipped, playfully wrestling Jo's hand away from his eyes as the moans and groans of the two women seemed almost too good to miss.

Castiel's expression remained impassive, and he glanced between Dean and Jo, and the room around him. "I believe my assumption is correct, I have witnessed this kind of behaviour before."

"They got pay-per-view up there?" Dean grinned, nodding toward the heavens.

"This is so gross," Jo pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers and averted her gaze to the floor, "should we maybe do something?"

"Like what? Hand out condoms and pamphlets on safe sex?" Dean retorted, mirth ever present in his eyes.

Jo started as a couple jostled past her, and they barely made it to the door before their lips met in a frenzied kiss.

"Couldn't hurt," Sam replied wryly, feeling his cheeks turn an embarrassing shade of red.

"My eyeballs feel violated," Jo grumbled, turning and hiding her face in Dean's shoulder.

Sam snorted, his gaze now resting in a wholly accusatory manner on Dean and Jo. "Seriously guys, maybe now you know how we feel."

Dean scowled at his brother, before he allowed his eyes to scan the room for any signs as to what could be causing the hormonal mayhem that had ensued. Even the barman was now busily shedding his t-shirt with a rotund redhead working at unbuttoning his pants. Dean swallowed hard and looked away as, for all his bravado and talk, the handful of good manners his father had managed to instil in him finally reared their head.

"Is this a spell, maybe?" asked Jo, her eyes following a lone woman who was making a break for the exit, her gaze darting uncomfortably around the bar and her expression mildly alarmed. The woman seemed to have escaped whatever charm or perhaps curse had claimed the other patrons of the bar, and was evidently eager to reach the sanctity of the parking lot. The door swung closed behind her and Jo thoughtfully returned her attention to their group. Castiel was standing in the midst of the mayhem now, hardly drawing a breath despite the fact that clothing was being tossed literally in the air around him. A neon pink bra struck the side of his head and dropped onto his shoulder, dangling there comically, but Castiel stood stock still, his eyes closed and his arms resting at his sides.

"What kind of witch puts a hot monkey sex spell on a bar?" Dean demanded, both disturbed and amused by the idea, although it admittedly was the only theory they had amounted so far. Jo shook her head, at a loss for words or an explanation.

"They seem unaffected," Sam said, pointing towards the opposite end of the room, where a man and woman stood, arm in arm, both shaking their heads in disbelief as they surveyed the couples, several of whom had almost shed all of their clothing.

"Can we please get out of here?" Jo demanded, tugging on Dean's sleeve insistently like a child.

Finally, Castiel's eyes snapped open, and he crossed the room in a couple of strides, drawing to a halt in front of Dean, Jo and Sam.

"I believe I may have an idea as to what is going on here," Cas stated, his tone as level and serious as always. "These people are not merely 'just horny'."

Castiel noted the expectant faces of his friends as he swept the pink bra from his shoulder and cleared his throat. "Though I doubt whether any of these... matches... have been pre-ordained or even approved by the powers that be, this is the work of a Cupid."

Dean winced, "A flying baby with a bow and arrow?"

"They do not adhere to the cultural stereotypes you humans seem intent to have bestowed upon them," Castiel said dismissively, "they appear to all intents and purposes just like you or I. But yes, as I said... a Cupid."

Sam's eyebrows rose, "Okay, so who is it?" he asked, hurriedly seeking out a guilty looking face in the bar.

"I'm afraid he or she has already left," Cas stated ruefully.

"Great, so we've got a rogue Cupid on the loose," Dean griped, envisioning already the issues this hunt was about to present them with. Not least of all appeared to be the trail of super-amorous humans and torn clothing.

Jo pursed her lips, "Okay, but... I saw a couple leaving before who seemed fine, and..."

Castiel shrugged, jamming his hands in the pockets of his trench coat as if the wisdom he was about to impart was trivial.

"A Cupid's magic cannot break the bonds of true love. If a couple's union is fated, that bond cannot be destroyed and their souls cannot be parted."

Dean stole a glance at Jo and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Jo too appeared to be mulling over Castiel's words, and a small smile slowly settled on her lips.

"Well... we're okay, I mean, we're... so we... we're uh..." Dean began, as if requiring Cas to confirm his suspicions as to why that should be the case. The angel simply stared back at the pair.

"Relax, Dean," Sam assuaged his brother, "for once, the rest of the room makes you guys look like a PG-13."

Dean appeared momentarily disappointed by this, before realisation dawned upon him and he had to stop himself at the last moment from puffing his own chest out with pride. He pulled Jo tighter into his side, and she rolled her eyes good naturedly at his display.

"Guys, before I gauge out my own eyes, what do we do?" Jo demanded, averting her gaze to the ceiling, which now appeared to be the only safe place to look.

"We track down the Cupid, of course," Castiel stated as though the solution to the problem had been evident all along, and Jo was simply slow on the uptake.

"And we do that how?" Sam demanded, sidestepping a man and woman who were walking backwards towards the bar with intent, throwing clothing behind them as they went, lips locked.

Castiel's eyes were narrowed to slits, as he contemplated the hunter's question and simply folded his arms across his chest.

"I will attempt to track it...although our current location is somewhat... distracting." His irritable glare landed on a passing couple and he glowered disapprovingly.

"I am totally fine with getting the hell out of here!" Jo stated, holding her hands up in an act of surrender.

Dean laughed softly and gestured around them, "Shouldn't we break this little orgy up first, before someone gets hurt... or, you know... pregnant?"

Sam and Jo nodded in agreement, but a stunted silence fell upon the trio as they glanced around and debated just how to go about snapping everyone out of their hormone fuelled daze.

"We could set the sprinklers off?" Jo suggested, peering up at the ceiling and shrugging absently.

Sam mulled over the suggestion and fumbled in his pocket for a lighter. His mouth gaping as if contemplating his confession, Dean placed his hand over his brother's arm and shook his head firmly.

"Whoah, whoah, wait a second. At the risk of sounding like the resident pervert around here..."

Sam arched an eyebrow and practically snorted in response, "Dean, you are the resident pervert."

"Okay, but all I'm saying is, you got folks feeling up strangers, hyped up on Cupid juice, and we're gonna throw wet t-shirts into the mix?" he held his hands up and pulled his lips into a tight smile, "far be it from me to point out the fly in the edible body paint, but... I don't think that's gonna dampen their mood, dude."

"The sleaze has a point," Jo agreed grudgingly, planting her hand on her hip as she stared up expectantly at her now grinning boyfriend. "Alright, genius, so what do we do?"

"Beats me," Dean answered, shrugging and jamming his hands into his pockets. "I create the problems, I don't solve them."

"Amen to that," Sam retorted, rolling his eyes and dropping his lighter back into his pocket.

"Fire alarm?" Jo suggested, shielding her eyes partially with her palm as she attempted to scout out the nearest fire alarm. Across the room, with a plethora of writhing bodies positioned beneath it, was a wall mounted glass case containing a handle.

"You want to risk it setting the sprinklers off?" Dean inquired, shaking his head pointedly at Jo, who glowered back at him in response. She threw up her hands and turned away from Dean, her frustration evident.

"Hey, I have an idea," Sam said, slapping Castiel on the bicep gently, "Cas, why don't you sing us a little song?"

Castiel blinked as he regarded Sam, his brow furrowing.

"Contrary to popular belief and ancient myth, angels do not sing," he chided, his tone suitably stern. A smile flickered upon his lips as he added, "Except for the one time in Japan when Zachariah discovered karaoke."

Sam, Dean and Jo merely stared back at the angel, their mouths hanging slightly open as their minds were filled with the disturbing image of Zachariah taking to the stage in front of a room full of Japanese businessmen. Sometimes, their lives were too surreal for even them to believe.

"No, I meant… with your real voice," Sam insisted, motioning towards the exit to Dean and Jo as Castiel finally bobbed his head in understanding. Dean winced and bent down to whisper in Jo's ear.

"Cover your ears and head for the door," he instructed, grabbing Jo's elbow and beginning to steer her through the throngs of half-naked customers. Sam turned around momentarily and pointed a warning finger at Cas.

"Just a chorus, Cas," he instructed, "let's keep the exploding eyeballs to a minimum."

"As you wish," Castiel agreed, striding into the centre of the bar as Dean, Jo, and Sam all clamoured for the exit. They spilled out into the alleyway at the side of the building together, Jo and Dean with their hands interlaced, and Sam bringing up the rear. He paused to close the door temporarily behind them so as to block out as much of Castiel's impending vocals as possible.

The heavy fire door of the bar slammed closed only moments before the ground began to tremble, and a high pitched, unearthly shriek caused the glass in the windows to fracture in protest.

Dean, Jo, and Sam crouched down beside a dumpster, their hands against their ears as the door suddenly swung open and a steady line of scantily clad patrons ran from the building in terror.

One girl dabbed at her bleeding nose with the sleeve of the shirt hanging from one shoulder, whilst others staggered through the alley under the influence of alcohol and Cupid's misguided arrows.

"My Mom could've used him at the Roadhouse," Jo remarked, slowly climbing to her feet and dusting down the legs of her jeans as she watched the patrons flee.

Dean laughed as he recalled the Harvelle matriarch with obvious affection, "Something tells me Ellen holding a shotgun worked just fine."

Jo shrugged and nodded, ignoring the brief pang of grief that tugged at her heart as she mustered a sentimental smile.

"Everyone okay?" Dean checked, glancing between his brother and girlfriend.

Sam, however, was busy staring off into what appeared to be the shadows of the alleyway, his eyes crinkled as he concentrated. He slapped Dean once in the centre of the chest before he took off running, leaving Dean and Jo blinking in confusion. Dean watched Sam disappear into the alley, and was tearing after him seconds later.

"Wait for Cas," Dean called over his shoulder, turning for just long enough to see Jo nod her head in agreement and withdraw her handgun from its holster as she awaited the appearance of the angel from the club.

Sam rounded the corner of the alleyway moments before Dean, skidding in the puddles on the ground left from the evenings heavy rain.

"Sam, what the hell?" Dean demanded, falling silent as Sam shushed him and dragged him behind a line of trashcans by the sleeve of his jacket. His gaze intense, Sam turned to Dean and then pointed towards a corner of the dead end they had reached, sandwiched between the club and a pizza place.

Dean's face immediately fell into a horrified grimace, and he eyed the creature looming in the darkened alley with obvious surprise.

"What the hell is that thing?"

Sam shook his head, his eyes never once leaving the bulbous headed, snarling, spitting monster for even a moment.

"I guess that's our Cupid?"

Dean swallowed hard and cast a brief glance up at his sibling, "Think I liked the flying baby thing better."

Sam nodded in agreement, and the brothers simultaneously ducked as the creature's enormous head whipped around, and its eyes appeared to focus upon them. The Cupid stomped angrily around, lashing out at dumpsters and trashcans, and destroying an overhanging fire escape ladder with one single swipe of its clawed hands.

The monster was lobster red from head to toe, and it's torso was a mass of taut muscle that could make a WWF wrestler envious. It's bald head was occupied by two stubby horns, and it's pointed ears curled over slightly at the tops from their position on the side of its head. As the creature threw back it's head, it's plump lips parted and a series of infuriated roars filled the night air. It wheeled around to face Dean, who swallowed hard as a pointed tail whipped in his direction. He jumped over the appendage like a child jumping rope, and had no sooner landed on his feet than he had withdrawn his gun from its holster.

"This… this is the chubby harbinger of love?" Dean yelled, firing a shot into the monster's chest and wincing as the bullet seemed to bounce off its thick hide.

"Aim for the head," Sam directed, approaching the thing with his hunting knife drawn.

Dean did a double take of the creature and glowered at Sam, "You aim for the head!"

A gunshot rang out through the night air, followed by a furious shriek, and the creature turned sharply in the hunter's direction as the bullet flattened against it's skin and clattered to the ground.

"Aww, sh..." Dean began, eyes wide as the monster stomped toward then, nostrils blazing with each exaggerated breath.

The sound of rushed footfalls caused both hunters to turn toward the entrance to the alley, and Jo and Cas ran into view just as the creature unsheathed an arrow from the quiver on it's back, and launched it with expert precision at the blonde.

Dean's heart stopped dead in his chest as Jo desperately tried to avoid the path of the oncoming missile. Castiel watched the arrow head whistle through the air, drifting on a trail of strange red orbs that bobbed and weaved in the air.

The angel seemed unconcerned by the threat to his friend, and he merely stood still as it came within an inch of the hunter's body, then disintegrated into black dust.

"Jo!" Dean yelled, almost choking on the breath that had been forced from his body.

Jo stared up at the angel in confusion, but Castiel shook his head, and answered her silent query in an infuriatingly calm tone of voice.

"The creature's magic cannot harm you," he stated, striding ahead as Jo stared down at her unharmed body before hastily following after him.

"Would have been good to know before my life flashed before my eyes," Jo growled, holstering her gun now that it had been unequivocally proven that bullets were no use against the creature.

"This is not a Cupid," Cas stated, ducking nonchalantly as the creature swiped a claw at his head, narrowly missing taking his scalp. He straightened up and surveyed the monster, his brain clearly ticking over.

"Can we do this later?" Dean shouted, seizing a nearby trashcan and slamming it into the thing's body. The metal shrieked as it yielded and moulded into the shape of the monster's body instead of wreaking any real damage to it's flesh.

"We don't care what it is, Cas," Sam snapped, slashing at the creature with his knife and noting with some satisfaction that the blade succeeded at least in drawing a thin line of blood, "how do we kill it?"

Castiel glanced at the three hunters, before shrugging his shoulders, and then disappearing with a familiar fluttering sound.

"Did he just…" Jo began, her eyes wide as she peered from Dean to Sam and back again.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean growled, desperately searching the alley for anything that could potentially be used as a weapon and that the monster could not shatter in one fell swoop of its mighty claws. The creature fired a succession of arrows at the hunters and, despite Castiel's cryptic reassurance that they could cause no harm, the trio ducked and rolled to avoid them.

"Anyone got any ideas?" Dean yelled, climbing to his feet and peering from behind the side of the dumpster to where the creature stood, red eyes blazing with fury as it surveyed the humans with apparent interest.

Sheathing the arrow it held in it's hand, the monster suddenly halted it's attack, and disappeared from view with the same ease and speed the angel had deserted them with.

"What the..." Jo began, brow furrowed as she stepped out from behind a host of upturned trash cans and began to walk uncertainly over toward the spot the creature had occupied.

Sam glanced up to watch momentarily as his brother followed close behind, but the younger Winchester soon looked away, concerned with more pressing issues.

Glancing down at his chest, Sam stared at the faint black scorch mark of the creature's arrow that burned a hole into the fabric of his shirt. He searched his skin, only to find no trace of any injury or wound.

"It just disappeared," Jo stated, her head whipping around and her eyes narrowing as she scanned every dark corner of the alley. "Why would it do that?"

"Trap," Dean growled, ushering Sam over towards them – the hole in his brother's shirt, for the moment, escaping his notice. Sam wandered over to where Jo and Dean stood, his skin tingling inexplicably and his mind whirring as he attempted to make sense of the situation. Monsters did not usually just bail when they had gained the upper hand in the fight.

Several minutes passed, during which the three hunters moved cautiously throughout the alley, searching for the creature, and yet finding no trace of either it or Castiel.

"Do we just get out of here?" Sam inquired, his tone somewhat hesitant as he weighed up the pros and cons of his suggested course of action. Equally confused, Dean nodded slowly.

At the moment, Castiel appeared once again in the mouth of the alley with a flutter of wings and a decidedly proud expression.

"You must…." He began, his voice raised as though he expected to find himself shouting above a fray. He drank in the scene before him, and Dean noticed his shoulders sag a little in disappointment

"Never mind," Cas finally muttered, "it seems that you have dealt with the problem."

Jabbing his finger at the errant angel, Dean shook his head, "I'll deal with you later."

Jo hugged her arms around herself, and she shivered with an inexplicable sense of unease, "Let's go."

For once, all three hunters were in ready agreement.

* * *

><p>Reviews are love, and flames make us just adore the DJ ship even more and write like little writing demons! ;)


	29. Chapter 29

_**Episode 10 – Part 2**_

'_**Trip On Love'**_

_**x-x-x**_

Sam accepted the mug of coffee that Jo slid across the table to him with a grateful smile, and his fingers clamped around the handle as he prepared to raise it to his lips. Despite the fact that his shirt had been relegated to the garbage, and his skin still tingled with an odd sensation not unlike pins and needles, Sam was remarkably calm. He had even neglected to mention the connecting shot to Dean, Jo or Cas, his own logic telling him 'no harm, no foul'. The monster had failed to reappear and so the hunters had made their escape, returning to their motel and deciding to renew their rooms for another few nights until they could track down and dispatch their attacker.

"What was that thing, Cas?" Dean demanded, grinning at Jo as she poured a generous slug of whiskey into his coffee before placing it down in front of him. Dean did not often take his coffees Irish now, regarding alcohol in his general state of contentment as more of an occasional beverage as opposed to a necessary daily staple.

Castiel frowned and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, watching the hunters sip at their drinks as they regarded him expectantly.

"I believe it is an Anti-Cupid. These creatures are harbingers of destruction and chaos. They were born when Lucifer was cast from Heaven and, as one of his many ways to extract vengeance on God, he tainted the blood of a Cupid with that of a demon. It became dark and vengeful, and soon it had recruited other cherubs with it's bite until they were many in number. Their sole purpose is to undo the work of a cupid, thereby causing disorder in the universe," Castiel arched an eyebrow, "as well as general misery and pain to humans."

Dean swallowed a sip of his coffee and pursed his lips, "So, it's kind of like a yin and a yang kind of thing?"

Sam bobbed his head in agreement, contemplating the story Castiel had relayed. "For every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction, thanks to our buddy Lucifer."

"Precisely," Castiel stated, his grave expression causing all three hunters to peer around the room at each other in distinct discomfort.

"Okay, but why wasn't everyone at the club effected? I mean, a couple of people just walked out of there when things started to get hot and heavy, and, I mean Sam was fine. What's up with that?" Jo asked, casting a sideways glance at Dean as his cheek pressed against her temple and she felt him sigh heavily against her.

"The Anti-Cupids largely disappeared from the mortal world around a thousand years ago," said Castiel, his gaze drifting to Sam, who appeared to be somewhat agitated. "The other angels have done their best to thin the herd, so to speak, but obviously over the centuries, a number of them have managed to slip through the net."

Sam glanced sharply at the angel, his lips forming a frown as he replied, "That didn't even come close to answering Jo's question. What gives, Cas?"

Castiel shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes darting about the room as though he was looking for some means of escaping the inevitable act of directly answering Sam's question.

"Cas!" Dean barked, slamming his coffee mug on the table and glaring at his friend, who bowed his head before he cleared his throat.

"The Anti-Cupid's influence is useless on soul mates, as you well know," he stated, slowly and quietly, "but also against those who are… for want of a better term… heartbroken."

"Oh!" Jo breathed, regret immediately washing over her features as she digested Castiel's explanation. Sam simply remained seated, but his eyes dropped to his lap, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Sam blinked profusely as a familiar pain tugged at him, and he found the face of a long lost love filling his mind. Six years later, and he still knew Jess' face by heart. The sound of her voice, the scent of her skin- all as fresh in his memory as the day she died.

Sometimes Sam wondered if his heart was irreparably broken, or whether there would ever be another love that could possibly compare. In his more optimistic moments, he thought perhaps there could be, but at other times, when only silence filled the air around him at night, he wished he had died right alongside her.

"Dude..." Dean began, closing his eyes momentarily as he tried to think of anything even remotely useful to say.

Though he had had his own brush with heartache, Dean could not imagine his brother's pain, nor did he wish to. The idea of not having Jo beside him made his stomach knot, and he pulled her closer into his side as he tried to dismiss his own maudlin thoughts.

"No, it's... it's fine," Sam dismissed, standing up and wandering over to the coffee pot and refilling his mug.

Jo pressed her palm to her forehead and winced.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know..." she whispered, her remorse at the possibility of having hurt Sam almost palpable.

"Really, Jo… it's fine," Sam replied, his tone somewhat short. He glanced at Jo, an unspoken apology in his eyes, and she nodded her silent acceptance of it.

Sam turned to Castiel, taking a slow sip of his coffee before he asked nonchalantly, "What about the arrows? Are they effective on everyone?"

Castiel regarded Sam in silence for a moment before finally shrugging.

"There is no true way of knowing," Castiel answered, watching Sam carefully, his expression still unreadable, "since the Anti-Cupid's arrows are similar to a cupid's arrows, then that would suggest they could be utilised against anyone. They are a most curious and mysterious weapon. It would be wise if you were all careful not to come in contact with one, as a precaution."

"We need some kind of plan to hunt this thing down then," Dean stated, squeezing Jo's waist gently and discretely, "before it leaves a trail of sweaty, sexually fulfilled people from here to… wait, why are we stopping this thing again?"

Castiel glowered at Dean, clearly unappreciative of the humour he was attempting to inject into the discussion, which he viewed with the upmost importance.

"The Anti-Cupid's magic can often turn what starts as affection into infatuation, and much worse," Cas replied, addressing Dean like a father chiding his child, "it must be stopped before someone gets hurt. You of all people should know how provocative matters of the heart can be, Dean."

Dean blushed, avoiding Castiel's gaze as he considered himself thoroughly chastised. He huffed irritably and folded his arms across his chest. "Okay, so how do we kill this thing?"

Castiel sat down on a nearby chair and leant his elbows on the table. He visibly sneered as he ran his eyes over the pile of empty takeout containers on the table, along with the remnants of pizza and cold french fries.

"It can only be defeated by a force equally as powerful... love," he deadpanned, not noting the chorus of raised eyebrows his statement provoked.

Dean winced and shook his head, "So what? A group hug will gank this thing? Gotta say, it didn't look real snuggly to me, Cas."

Castiel sighed witheringly, and Dean noted with indignance how the angel seemed to be rapidly perfecting the human expressions of exasperation and irritation over any other. He had also noted that these were more frequently aimed at him.

"A cupid's arrow is the only magic that can defeat it. We must locate a cupid, and... and procure his arrows."

"Procure his arrows?" Jo smiled wryly and shot Cas a look that reminded Dean so much of her mother, that he shook his head in slow surprise, "is that fancy angel talk for 'steal'?"

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, blinking away the dull, unrelenting throb that had begun to pound at his temples.

"So, how do we find a cupid? Those things are pretty hard to track down, right?" Sam asked, looking to his brother and Jo for agreement. The couple nodded, yet Castiel simply picked up a cold slice of pizza and examined it's toppings with interest.

"Oh," he lifted his gaze suddenly and dropped the greasy food back into the equally greasy box, "I have a plan."

"That sounds just… awful," Dean stated, his brow furrowed and his lips twisted into a frown as he wondered exactly what Castiel's plan entailed. The angel was not renowned for his masterful solutions to problems, and the very fact that he was so willing to take charge of the whole operation whilst giving very little away made Dean decidedly nervous. He shot a look at Jo that conveyed as much, but she only offered him a small smile, obviously still kicking herself for touching on a sore subject with Sam.

"Listen, guys," Sam began, rubbing the back of his neck with the palm of one hand, "if you don't mind, I think I should sit this one out. I don't feel so good."

"Sam…" Dean started, his tone pleading as he took a step towards his brother, "come on, dude… we're really sorry. We had no idea. Don't make me beg."

"No, I mean, I really don't feel too good," Sam answered, swallowing deeply as he sank down onto the edge of the nearby bed. His complexion had indeed adopted an unusual pallid tone, and Jo took a step towards him before gingerly placing her palm against his forehead. Sam peered up at her, his expression half way between misery and self-pitying.

"You're burning up," Jo said, shaking her head at Sam as she continued, "meds and rest for you, Winchester."

Dean eyed his brother warily, and watched as Jo quickly crossed the room and rummaged in her gym bag. Producing a wad of various pills and medications, one for every minor medical emergency, Jo rifled through them before pushing out two yellow capsules from the blister pack. She proffered the pills to Sam with a sharply raised eyebrow that defied him to refuse them.

Smiling gratefully, the younger Winchester took them from her and swallowed them down with a large gulp from his coffee mug.

"Thanks," he glanced up at her affectionately, and sighed as she squeezed his shoulder blade and gestured over to his bed.

"Dean and I got this, just take it easy, okay?"

Sam merely nodded, suddenly feeling so sick to his stomach and dizzy that he dared not chance attempting to speak. He swung his legs around onto the bed and settled himself on his back whilst Jo and Dean gathered their jackets, and other assorted items they would need to embark on Castiel's masterful plan. As they worked around him, Sam found himself drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep, and so did not even stir as the trio exited the hotel room, leaving him behind.

**x-x-x**

"This?"

Dean hissed in a breath, his eyes raking across the room they were now confined within thanks to Castiel and his claim to know exactly where to find a cupid. On the journey over to the hotel, Dean had quickly gleaned that the angel was actually bluffing, albeit rather impressively, and was mostly clueless as to how they would begin tracking a cupid.

"This," Cas repeated stoically, searching the sectioned off restaurant with his own gaze in order to discern if there was anything unusual afoot. That was to say, anything more unusual than 30 strangers meeting in a hotel to hit on each other for three minutes at the command of an annoyingly insistent bell.

Jo's eyes narrowed dangerously, and she jabbed her finger toward the angel with an ill-concealed snarl, "Speed dating, Cas? You brought us speed dating?"

A suitably horrified sneer quickly settled on Dean's face, and he swallowed hard as he wondered just how much mingling may be involved with Castiel's errant plan.

Jo folded her arms across her chest and rolled her eyes, wondering if the angel quite understood her level of irritation. "I went to one of these things in college, Cas, and I can tell you right now, there's no 'true love' crap happening here, okay?!"

Castiel appeared to be ignoring the blonde's tirade, as his eyes closed momentarily and he simply took in the noise and ambience of the room. Inhaling deeply, Cas blinked and then shot a victorious smile in the hunters' direction.

"There is a cupid present."

Dean jammed his hands in his pockets and bobbed his head, "Awesome. So, point the dude out to us, we'll take him out back, grab what we need, and he can get back to coercing these unfortunate folks into movie dates and sharing platters."

"It is not that simple," Cas began, glancing to his side at Jo as she sighed.

"It never is," she deadpanned, shrugging out of her jacket and hooking her thumb underneath the collar before she slung it over her shoulder.

Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but was silenced as, from their left hand side, a short, round woman sporting stiff corkscrew curls thrust a number into Dean's hand.

"Well, hey," she giggled, her eyes alight and her lips twitching constantly in a display of her nerves, "are you guys joining us?"

"No!" Dean and Jo chorused, shooting horrified glares at Castiel as he accepted the number from the woman and then gestured for two more.

"We would be… delighted," Cas replied, his monotone voice sounding anything but.

"Okay, well here's your score cards and pencils," she grinned excitedly, handing out the necessary items to all three newcomers before indicating their seats at separate tables in turn with a sweep of her hand.

"You've missed the first round, but we're rolling right into the second. Now, you've got 3 minutes, and when you hear that bell, you gentlemen just stand and move to the next table on your right. We good?"

"Yes ma'am," Dean nodded, smiling tightly as he took his seat and tried to nonchalantly note where Jo was seated, and more importantly, who was sitting opposite her.

The gentle hum of conversation suddenly halted, and at the sound of a bell, the woman in front of Dean sprang into life, suddenly forgetting the conversation she had been immersed in with the woman beside her.

"Hi, I'm Marcy, I'm twenty eight, and right now I work in accounting, but I'm really looking to move out of that and open my own photography studio. Let's see now, I like movies, definitely a romantic comedy kind of girl, I like love, love, _love_ Taylor Swift, and I want three kids, two boys and a girl... but I guess two would be okay..."

Dean's mouth dropped open and he stared aghast at the still rambling woman, willing the seconds to tick by and free him from this new and unusual form of torture.

**x-x-x**

Sam shot up in bed, gasping and clutching at his chest. It felt as though someone was plunging a white hot blade into his heart, and sweat poured in rivulets down his face. His shirt was soaked through and Sam quickly kicked away the tangle of blankets surrounding him in order to stumble towards the bathroom.

Without bothering to turn on the light, Sam seized a glass from the counter and filled it with water, which he drank in long, noisy slurps until the glass was empty again. He continued to rasp and struggle to catch his breath, but the pain in his chest receded a little, granting him some relief.

Sam moved back into the bedroom and, without another thought, shrugged on his jacket and pocketed his keys to the room. He desperately needed to escape the same four walls, which it now felt like were closing in around him, and, although he knew he should probably rest a while longer, the voice at the back of Sam's mind screamed at him to flee.

He allowed the door to slam closed behind him and, with no actual plan as to where he was heading, Sam began to press on towards the small, greasy looking diner that was adjacent to the motel.

A light patter of raindrops began to splash onto his cheeks, but Sam seemed oblivious to the sensation, as his eyes locked on the silhouette of a tall brunette through the diner window.

His heart began to pound in his chest, and he urged his feet to move quicker as he felt inexplicably drawn to the stranger.

The woman stood talking to two patrons seated in a booth, a small pad in her hand and a pencil tucked behind her ear. She smiled at her customers and appeared to gesture behind her to the menu boards.

Sam ducked his head as she glanced up, worried that she had felt the weight of his gaze upon her. But she carried on chatting undeterred, and he realised that she had been watching the torrent of rain that had begun to fall.

His hand pulled open the door as a bell rang above him, and Sam slipped into the diner and headed for a secluded booth in the corner.

Watching the waitress still, he tried to dismiss the pain clutching at his chest, even as he heard his heartbeat echo in his ears.

Pulling a menu up from the table, he observed her from behind a makeshift barrier, unsure of who he was trying to protect.

The brunette remained oblivious to his attentions, as Sam simply sat there, watching and waiting.

**x-x-x**

The sound of a bell ringing had never been more welcome. Dean resisted the urge to heave a sigh of relief as his partner rose to her feet and reluctantly moved to her right, a mock pout on her lips as she mouthed the word 'later' at Dean. He chuckled, nodding even though he would rather purposefully drive the Impala off a cliff.

The next woman seated herself. Dean groaned inwardly as he found himself nose to nose with the woman who had welcomed them. Her curls bounced as she giggled, her cheeks already flushing.

"We meet again," she said, between enthused giggles, "Karol… that's with a 'K' not a 'C'… oh, and no 'E' at the end… well, originally there was an 'E' at the end and then I had it changed by deedpoll. Karol without an 'E' just sounds so much…"

"Shorter?" Dean supplied as Karol trailed off, apparently in search of the correct term. Instead, she giggled uncontrollably until she snorted, then clamped a hand to her mouth.

"Oh you're funny," she beamed, "I like 'em funny."

Dean sat up a little straighter as suddenly, beneath the table, he felt a stockinged foot begin to caress his ankle.

**x-x-x**

"What can I get you?"

Sam glanced up sharply at the female voice, and he shook his head as he tried to wave her away with one hand.

The blonde waitress huffed in annoyance, planting her hand on her hip as she surveyed her customer with unchecked irritation.

She gestured toward the clock on the diner wall with the eraser end of her pencil, "We shut in fifteen minutes, and I gotta go pick my kid up from the sitters so I can't be late. If you're ordering, can you just do it already?"

Sam's breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, and he levelled his gaze at the woman as his voice became little more than a snarl, "Coffee. Black."

The woman arched an eyebrow, muttering to herself as she strolled back toward the counter, "Real charmer, there."

Sam licked his lips, clenching and extending his fingers as he tried to calm his errant breathing. The desire he felt for the brunette was building, in direct conflict with the voice in his head that told him his sudden infatuation was abnormal.

Every time he tried to quash the sudden longing, a sharp pain would strike his heart, and he struggled to get air in or out of his lungs.

"Goodnight Lil, I'll see you tomorrow, huh?"

Sam glanced up as he realised that the melodious voice belonged to the dark haired waitress poised at the door with her coat slung over her arm and her purse on her shoulder.

Her blonde colleague nodded in her direction, offering the woman a warm smile as she called back, "Sure thing. Have a good one, Vicki!"

Lillian poured what she hopes would be the last cup of coffee of her shift, her eyes narrowing as she spied the clock and noted just how close to closing time it was. If her new customer hung around, her sitter would charge her extra time for sure.

The sound of the doorbell jingling caused her to glance up and she cursed aloud as she spilt the hot liquid over the counter.

Peering down the diner, Lil frowned as she noted the now empty booth. The man was gone, and she was free to go home.

**x-x-x**

"Oh, thank God," Dean groused quietly, the sound of the bell once again freeing him from three minutes of unbridled agony.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighed as he glanced down at the table, trying to prepare himself for more of the same. He was going to strangle Cas when this was over, there was no two ways about it.

"Hey there, cowboy."

He looked up quickly and a smile blossomed on his lips as he eagerly registered the presence of a pair of brown eyes.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you," Dean exhaled slowly, frowning as Jo shook her head in warning and glanced pointedly at their fellow speed daters, who could not know of their undercover status.

"Oh yeah, that," Dean grumbled through clenched teeth, shaking his head as he shot a discrete but infuriated glare in Cas' direction. The angel was seated directly across from a woman Dean had already endured. She had babbled on about her pet ferrets and the outfits she sewed for them whilst Dean had quickly lost the will to live. She now appeared to be doing the same to Castiel, although instead of nodding and smiling politely as Dean had done, the angel was ignoring the woman and sweeping the room with his keen gaze.

"Are you going to introduce yourself then?" Jo inquired, her grin mischievous as she tossed her hair over her shoulder in an obviously seductive gesture. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, and Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat as immediately images of Karol with a 'K' and no 'E' began to spring to mind.

"You already know my…" he began, surprised when Jo shook her head and pursed her lips.

"Come on, work with me here," she encouraged, "just go with it."

Sighing in defeat, Dean leant his elbows on the table and inched toward his new date. Jo smiled encouragingly, and he finally consented to mirror her smile, grateful to have the next few minutes at least with the only woman who actually mattered to him.

"My name's Dean, and you are?"

Jo cocked her head, smiling as she similarly leant forward in her seat and flashed him her most flirtatious smirk. Dean's eyes swept her entire body, and she sighed as she felt a pleasant blush rise up the apples of her cheeks, and goosebumps prickled at her arms.

"Jo," she replied, beginning to enjoy their stakeout a little more than she knew she should.

Dean took a moment to hold her in a suitably suggestive gaze, and suddenly his dormant flirting skills began to resurface.

"Well, Jo..." she narrowed her eyes as his voice became suitably husky, and she recognised the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "I think there's a pretty good chance you're gonna be going home with me tonight."

Jo laughed and leant back in her seat, catching the disdainful glare the woman seated beside her was shooting Dean.

"That so?" Jo countered playfully, "you're pretty sure of yourself, huh?!"

The man who would be Jo's next 'date' appeared suitably affronted, and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he glowered at his rival.

"Foresight is my gift," Dean answered, his smile winning as he watched Jo toy with the ends of her hair. He wondered if the girlish gesture was subconscious or if it was an intentional display of flirtation on her part. Either way, he found he liked it.

"Well then, Dean…" she paused, leaning forwards so as to expose just the right amount of cleavage from the low cut vest she wore beneath a plaid over-shirt, "I…"

The insistent bleep of the buzzer drowned out her next words, and both Dean and Jo looked crestfallen.

"Oh come on!" Dean yelled in the direction of the women who was poised over the all-important buzzer at the top of the room, "there's no way that was three minutes!"

"Sorry sweetheart," Jo sighed, climbing to her feet and turning towards the next table, where a short, balding man wearing a pair of gold wire rimmed glasses was hunched over a glass of water.

Leaving Dean grumbling irately behind her, Jo forced her legs to carry her over to the chair opposite her latest 'date'. As she plopped down into the hardwood seat, his head whipped up.

His voice trembling nervously, he demanded, "Do you like mime?"

Jo allowed her forehead to hit the table.

**x-x-x**

The rain was falling harder now, aiding the lone figure in hiding undetected in the shadows.

Holding her coat over her head, the woman dashed across the parking lot to her car, oblivious to the fascinated stares of the man loitering in the dimly lit doorway.

"Shoot," she groaned, her car keys suddenly slipping from her hand and tumbling to the ground as her damp skin made it difficult to find purchase on them.

Stooping down, the woman blinked against the raindrops and fumbled for the keys that had fallen just out of reach under the vehicle.

She did not hear his footfalls, or his laboured breathing as he approached her. She would not know the inner turmoil that possessed the man, as his better nature fought against the spell he had been cruelly drawn under.

Her heart pounded quicker in her chest as she saw the feet of the stranger and felt his looming shadow dwarf her infinitely smaller frame.

Grasping for her keys with renewed urgency, the woman swiped a trembling hand under the car and willed her fingers to make contact with the metal.

Before the darkness claimed her, she heard his frantic apologies and pleas for forgiveness; but perhaps the most terrifying of all, was his whispered 'I love you'.

**x-x-x**

"Kill me, kill me now," Dean muttered through clenched teeth, forcing a smile as the next participant sat down opposite him, and he prepared himself for more of the same brand of crazy.

He frowned in almost pleasant surprise as a fairly attractive blonde sat down demurely in front of him, and she flashed him a toothy smile as she cast an approving nod in his direction.

"Well hey there, hot stuff," she drawled, leaning forward and planting her elbows on the table.

"I uh... I go by Dean," he stammered, pausing only momentarily to wonder where the hell his flirting mojo had disappeared to. Not that he wanted to utilise the infamous Winchester charm, he was after all very much in love and considerable lust with his girlfriend, but he liked to know he could still turn it on when required. You just never knew when such skills would come in handy in their line of work.

"Okay, Dean... I'm Cindy," she emphasized his name, staring directly into his eyes as she purposefully leaned further forward and her breasts threatened to spill out of the dress she was almost wearing, "but you can call me whatever you want."

Dean winced and averted his gaze, half out of respect for his girlfriend, and half out of an escalating sense of embarrassment as the woman made no effort to cover herself.

"You like them? I just got 'em!" she enthused, a beaming smile on her face as she cupped her bosoms in both hands and an alarmingly childlike smile blossomed on her face.

Dean stuttered, closing his eyes momentarily.

"They're uh... they're swell," he gulped, "I mean, they're... you know... they're... fine."

Cindy laughed and shook her head, propping her chin in her hand as she regarded her potential mate, "You know, for a seriously hot guy, you're not very good at this whole 'picking up women' thing are you?"

Dean smiled tightly, thinking back on his illustrious dating past with a brief chuckle. "Guess I'm just a little shy."

"Ok, then I guess it's down to me to do the talking," Cindy replied, winking at Dean almost as an afterthought. She clasped her hands on the table in front of her, sucking her front teeth as she deliberated her hard sell, "I'm thirty-one, I'm a manager at a restaurant, own my own home, the sweetest Lexus you'll ever see, and I really want to go to India someday."

"Huh…" Dean replied, somewhat startled by her normal and sane responses. He thought that Cindy could actually be a catch for some lucky guy in the future.

"Oh let me see… hobbies…" Cindy mused, beginning to drum her long, lacquered fingernails on the tabletop, "movies, gardening, salsa dancing… oh, and… my vice…"

"Uh huh," Dean prompted, leaning back in his seat in a casual attempt to see how Cas was progressing with their investigation.

"Well, I just got the titties," she said, before stroking her index finger down the bridge of her nose, "I had my nose sculpted a few months back, lipo, cheek implants… oh, the third Wednesday every month is Botox day…"

"Is that so?!" Dean replied, nodding as he quickly retracted his previous appraisal.

Cindy appeared suddenly bored with the conversation, and she sighed so hard her bosom heaved with the exertion.

"Dean... You wanna get out of here? We are like way too hot to be talking to these inbred losers."

Dean narrowed his eyes, quickly scanning the room for Jo, who appeared to be sitting open-mouthed as she watched the guy in front of her playing a small harmonica he had pulled from his pocket. As wooing exercises went, he had to admit it was different.

"Look, Cindy, you seem real nice, but I promised my friends we'd do this thing afterwards, and..."

Cindy held up her hand to silence him, and Dean blanched as she hastily stood and grabbed up her purse.

"Your loss, dude. There are plenty of guys in here who would kill to hook up with me!"

Dean folded his arms across his chest, about to respond with what he thought was a witty and mildly caustic retort when the bell finally rang, bringing the evening's activities to a close.

Dean grinned and shrugged, "Whatta you know? We're out of time."

Cindy bustled out of the bar area, and Dean leant back in his seat and let out a relieved breath as he realised that his ordeal was finally over.

The short, be-spectacled man who had been sitting next to him followed the buxom blonde's exit with his gaze before turning to shake his head in Dean's direction as he accused, "You have to be crazy, right?"

Dean indicated Cindy's retreating form with one hand and stated sardonically, "Be my guest, dude. Just don't leave her in direct sunlight or anything."

Frowning as though the joke had passed over his head, the man gathered up his jacket and literally scampered after the blonde.

Dean closed his eyes and allowed his head to loll back in the chair, hoping that Castiel had gleaned some kind of useful snippet of information or lead from the evening, lest he be forced to ram an angel blade into his heart.

"What are you doing here?"

Dean's eyes opened quickly as the voice interrupted his thoughts, and he straightened up in his seat as he found himself face to face with a petite, middle-aged brunette, who was glaring at him with her arms crossed in front of her in a gesture of open hostility. She was beautiful in a somewhat severe way; her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, her shapely fingernails adorned with red polish, and her cheeks heavily but pleasantly rouged. The corners of her eyes were creased with a smattering of wrinkles that hinted at her age but, overall, Dean approved of her general appearance, and even considered asking for her number to pass onto Bobby.

"Uhm… to be truthful, not entirely sure myself," Dean answered with a small smile, his confusion evident in his eyes as he regarded the woman. She leaned forwards with her fingers digging into the tabletop.

"I know what you are," she hissed, glancing around her to ensure their privacy, "you being here runs the risk of interfering with the course of true love, so… just shoo!"

Dean pursed his lips, examining her closely and reaching his conclusion as to her identity quickly.

"True love? Here? You gotta be kidding me," he snorted derisively.

The woman grimaced briefly and shrugged in agreement, "Yeah, not exactly the pick of the crop in here I admit, but it's not just poster boys like you who deserve to get the girl."

Dean's lips twitched with the faintest traces of a smile.

"There are a couple of matches here tonight, and if you don't beat it right now, you're going to ruin everything."

"Hey, I'm a paying customer, lady. I got just as much right to be here as all the other social outcasts in the room." Dean paused as he thought over the implications of his words, and then shook his head, "What's it to you, huh?"

The woman rolled her eyes and waved her hand in the air, and on command the other inhabitants in the room appeared suspended in time. Couples sat frozen in conversation, whilst others held drinks almost to their lips, obviously in the process of trying to erase the events of the evening from their minds.

Groaning in frustration, the woman cocked her head and glared at him from behind narrowed blue eyes.

"Alright, cut the crap, Dean. I know who you are and what you are. I also know that you've got about as much business here as the uptight angel, and the pretty blonde you came here with who's got your ring in her back pocket."

Snapping her fingers, she gestured to the air around her, where glittering trails of deep pink mist seemed to link two couples across the vast space. Smiling at the mystified hunter, she blew slowly and gently into the air in front of him, and immediately a bright golden line materialised. It seemed to begin at his chest, right over his heart. He followed its path with his eyes, unsurprised to find the other end lead him directly to Jo.

Dean smiled faintly, watching Jo for a moment as he mulled over the implication, which he had never truly allowed himself to believe.

The woman could not help but smile too, delighted at the obvious affection she found in his eyes. Though she had spent thousands of years forging bonds between humans, it still touched her to see true love between the beings, as infuriating as they could be on occasion.

She pointed toward the two couples indicated by the pink trails.

"These two, I need to shoot in the ass a couple more times," she winked playfully, but then swept her hand through the golden mist before them so that it dissipated, "but these things, even I don't see that often. And this wasn't me, buddy, this was all him."

She nodded up toward the ceiling, to the only force of power strong enough to match souls from the moment of their creation. Dean nodded solemnly, for once at a loss for words.

"Look, we need your help," Dean began, starting as the woman nodded vigorously and almost immediately shushed him.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, loverboy. Some Anti-Cupid's on a rampage. I heard all about it already."

The cupid snapped her fingers, and the air was immediately cleared. A second motion and Jo and Castiel were released from their suspended animation.

"Alright you two, get your asses over here, I ain't got all night. I've got people to match, babies to make, and celebrity cat fights to start, so... in your own time, huh?"

Jo stumbled somewhat uncertainly over to the table, confusion apparent on her face, whilst Castiel walked briskly ahead of her, having recognised the cupid the moment he had been released from her spell.

"Castiel, a pleasure as always," the cupid stated, her smile not entirely sincere, although Cas appeared unaware of as much. She nodded at Jo, "Joanna, good to meet you finally. You know, I matched up your grandparents on your Mom's side. Ah, what a couple! They'd been making goo-goo eyes at each for years in some backwater town. I had to stick your grandpa six times before he managed to pluck up the courage to do something about it."

Jo wrinkled her nose and tried unsuccessfully to feign a smile, "That's... nice?"

Dean hurriedly pulled Jo into his side, hugging her with the conviction of a man who was completely and utterly battle scarred.

"You okay?" Jo smiled up at him quizzically, planting her palm on his chest and laughing as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and clung to her. Castiel and the cupid appeared to be caught up in an argument about the freezing spell, with the celestial being indignant at having been temporarily effected by her magic.

Ignoring their spat, Dean peered down at the blonde hunter.

"I will be," he replied, shuddering for effect as he thanked his lucky stars he no longer had need to plunge into the terrifying depths of the dating pool.

Jo fished in her pocket and handed him a crumpled score card, which he opened curiously.

"You actually filled this thing out?" he asked askance.

Jo bobbed her head, "Hey, they talked less if they thought I was judging them… which I totally was, by the way. But good news Dean-o, you ticked all my boxes! You got yourself a date."

Affixing a charming smirk upon his face, Dean winked at his girlfriend with a self-assured twinkle in his eye, "Yeah, that's because I know what you and your boxes like."

Jo rolled her eyes and leant against his chest, "Well, you did score big for not playing any pocket sized musical instruments or trying to sing the 50 States song whilst drinking a glass of water."

"Ugh, for some reason mortal men confuse these things with talent shows," the cupid interjected, her eyes sparking as she surveyed the room proudly, almost like a mother surveying her children dressed in their Sunday best. "You know, if half of these loveable mooks just decided to be themselves, they wouldn't even need me… well, maybe a quarter… sometimes more like an eighth…"

"Look, this is all… great… but can you help us or not?" Dean demanded, holding his hand out to the cupid expectantly.

"What? You think I'm just gonna hand over one of my arrows?" she guffawed, her lip curling as she surveyed Dean and then added, "to you, monkey man?"

Cas cocked his head, mouthing the words 'monkey man' at Jo in questioning. She simply shook her head, fighting hard to suppress a smile as she watched Dean flounder indignantly at the cupid. She was beginning to like this particular celestial being, who certainly seemed to have a knack for rendering her boyfriend temporarily dumbfounded. It was such a rare sight that Jo could not help but be impressed.

The cupid planted her hand on her hip and arched a dark eyebrow, "Okay boys, this is how this little operation is gonna go down. You find it, I stick it. There'll be no deviation from the plan, it's not even open for discussion, sweet cheeks. You want my help, it's your call."

Dean licked his lips, pointing his finger at the woman as Jo yanked his sleeve and pulled him back, "Hey, you need us as much as we need you, sweetheart. It's your handy work this thing is undoing, and you can't track it down without us..."

"Without me, technically," Castiel interrupted with a stoic nod of his head.

"Without him," Dean corrected himself, gesturing to he and Jo in turn, "and we're a package deal, so you work with us, or you hand over the goods and let us do what we're good at."

The woman laughed softly, fanning herself in mock approval of his rant, "Whew! Testosterone spill in aisle three."

Adopting a deadpan expression that could easily have rivalled Castiel's, the being regarded Dean with rapidly disappearing patience, "You done? Can we go now?"

Dean and Jo exchanged glances, the latter of whom merely shrugged in agreement.

"Fine," Dean huffed, immediately starting for the door with Jo and Castiel following behind.

"Oh!" the cupid shook her head and smiled as she realised her gaff then swept her gaze around the room of still frozen daters.

"Just a minute..." she said slowly, plucking a deep red dart from an invisible quiver on her back, before loading it in the bow that appeared in her hands. The arrow sailed deftly through the air, hitting a tall, bearded man directly in the chest. Another two arrows followed close behind, one hitting his intended paramour, and the other striking the short, balding man who had enthralled Jo earlier with his musical talents.

Fastening a final arrow into the bow, the cupid took aim at a timid looking, mousy woman sitting alone at a table.

Jo watched curiously, instantly feeling for the girl who cut a lonely figure in the bar.

The four watched as the arrow sped toward it's intended, yet at the last minute, the trajectory of the missile appeared to change, and the arrow veered off course and disappeared into the forearm of the tattooed waitress who had been walking past the table.

"Oops," the cupid winced, thinking over her error for only a moment before she batted her wrist in the direction of the patrons, "meh, close enough."

The trio of hunters and their new companion swept from the room, Dean worrying on the small issue of the cupid's apparent lack of aim.

Mere moments after they disappeared, the crowd buzzed into life again.

The waitress frowned, rubbing at her chest, which was suddenly feeling tight. She continued on her course towards the table where her customer was seated, her tray balanced precariously on the palm of her hand. However, as she placed the small gin and tonic down in front of the man, her heart gave a little telling flutter in her chest, and she found herself grinning inanely at him. He peered back at her, his lips curving into a smile as his cheeks reddened – turning a shade that matched the hand-knitted sweater he wore.

The waitress allowed her tongue to poke out between her teeth, and the overhead light glinted off the silver stud embedded in it.

She clocked off her shift an hour early that night, and never once looked back.


	30. Chapter 30

_**Episode 10 – Part 3**_

'_**Trip On Love'**_

_**x-x-x**_

The flickering of the candle flames cast eerie shadows onto the cold stone walls of the church, which had stood abandoned for decades before Sam Winchester had disturbed its sanctity with a crowbar and a pair of bolt cutters.

The brunette slumped over in the centre of the aisle was slowly coming to, her eyelids flickering as she rolled her head and let out a low groan. An egg sized lump adorned her forehead, and Sam reached out a hand to tenderly brush her hair away from the wound he had inflicted.

"Hey there, sleepyhead," he murmured, his face mere inches away from the woman's, allowing his breath to ghost across her cheek. Vicki's nose wrinkled in confusion at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, and she forced her eyelids open the rest of the way despite the insistent pounding in her temples. Her stomach heaved as she found herself nose to nose with her attacker, and the events of the past hour came flooding back to her. She strained against the bonds holding her to the chair, hardly caring when the rope bit into the soft flesh on her wrists.

"Shhh, don't struggle, you'll hurt yourself," Sam chided her, a strangely gentle smile on his face. He reached out to brush a stray curl of hair from her forehead and smiled at her encouragingly.

"I just want us to get to know each other better, that's all."

Vicki's eyes were wide with fear, and her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard and choked back a sob.

Sam winced, suddenly clutching at his head as a searing pain tore at his skull.

Stumbling away from his hostage, Sam dragged himself to the corner of the room, falling over overturned pews and rotting shards of wood as he cried out in pain.

"No! No! No!" he wailed, the torment of his own consciousness suddenly breaking through the spell. He felt himself almost drawn in two, with vehemently insistent and opposing voices each trying to make him see reason. The static in his head was deafening, and with each beat of his heart, a vice like grip clenched at his chest leaving him breathless and confused.

Hearing the anguished cries of her attacker, the waitress shrank back into the carpet and as she glanced around the derelict building, she drew her eyes to the altar and began to pray.

**x-x-x**

"Cas, what is it?" Dean demanded, rushing to the angel's side as he stumbled back against the brick wall of the front of the hotel, clutching his head in his hands with his features twisted into a grimace.

Jo rushed to Dean's aid, grabbing Castiel's right elbow and helping Dean to keep him on his feet as he only slumped over further, threatening a descent to the ground that would certainly claim the attention of passers-by.

"Sam…" Castiel groaned, raking his fingers through his hair and whipping his head rapidly from left to right as though he was attempting to dispel whatever thoughts plagued him.

"Sam?" repeated Dean, concern immediately creeping into his tone as he added, "what the hell does that mean?"

Castiel glanced up at Dean, his eyes narrowed as he concentrated in pushing away the pain that seized his skull like a vice in order that he could think clearly.

"We must find him now," Castiel gritted his teeth as another stab of pain ricocheted in his skull.

"Sam's sick?" Jo shook her head, not understanding the angel's cryptic gasps, "he's in trouble? What?"

Castiel stood suddenly straight, his fists clenching at his sides as he let out a strangled cry and almost immediately a bright white light engulfed his body. Moments later it disappeared with a blinding flash, leaving the two hunters rubbing at their eyes and fumbling to keep themselves upright.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, blinking to try to dispel the dancing lights before his eyes, "what the hell was that, Cas?"

Castiel cocked his head and regarded his friend impassively, "My apologies. I was in pain and elected to remedy the situation. I did not care for it."

"No kidding," Dean groused, nodding his head sarcastically, "so, what's up with Sammy? He's in trouble?"

Jo cast a fleeting glance at the Cupid, as the woman leant back against a parked car and examined her manicure with obvious boredom.

"Don't mind me," she smiled tightly, clearing her throat in a pointed display of irritation.

"We'll get to you later, lady," Dean snapped, waving an obviously dismissive hand in the Cupid's direction, and barely seeming to notice as she straightened up and affixed him with a glare.

"Are you always this charming?" the angel retorted, her lips pressing into a thin and angry line.

"We should return to the motel," Cas stated, his tone somewhat hesitant although his expression was confident, "perhaps we can hope to understand from there what has become of Sam."

"What's become of Sam?" Dean mimicked, the words echoing unpleasantly in his own ears as he spoke them in the angel's wake. "What the hell does that even mean?"

Castiel merely shook his head, his eyes flickering to Dean's features momentarily, and communicating his remorse.

"I am afraid I am uncertain," he replied. Dean remained motionless for several seconds, before he began to scramble for the keys to the Impala in his jacket pocket, deciding that rapid action was perhaps the best course in the current situation.

Jabbing a finger in the angel's direction, Dean simultaneously threw open the car door.

"You, go with Tinkerbell and see if you can find this thing..." Dean ignored the Cupid's huff of indignance, "we're heading back to the motel."

Jo paused before sliding into the passenger seat, arching an eyebrow in the angel's direction, "Keep an ear out, Cas? We may need your help."

Castiel's face fell, and he swallowed in evident distaste at Dean's plan as he realised he would be spending the evening in the company of a being he viewed with the upmost irritation.

The frivolity of the Cupid prickled him to his very core, and her haphazard, somewhat scatter-brained approach to her work did not fill him with confidence that their hunt would be a swift one.

"Fine," he replied, his stoic expression edging ever so slightly onto the side of 'annoyed'.

"Finally," the Cupid exclaimed, standing up straight and dropping her arms down by her sides. Eyeing the angel mischievously, she planted her hands on her hips and cocked her head, "Let's get this show on the road, then. We using your juice or mine?"

At Castiel's confused frown, the woman rolled her eyes and, forgoing all explanations, simply grabbed the sleeve of the angel's coat. A split second later and they vanished from sight, leaving only a cloud of pink dust behind them.

**x-x-x**

Sam stroked the back of his hand almost tenderly across the waitress' forehead, careful to avoid the wound he had inflicted upon her when he had snatched her from the carpark earlier.

"Please…" she repeated, her voice trembling horribly as she implored her captor, who merely shook his head with a wistful smile, "I have family… my parents and my little sister will be worried… just… please let me go and I promise I won't…"

"Shhh…" Sam murmured, pressing a single finger against the woman's swollen lips, and pausing in order to brush a tendril of hair away from her frightened eyes, "we're going to be so happy together, you'll see."

"No…." she whispered, her voice a mere distraught hiss as she shook her head, "I don't… whoever you think I am, I'm not her… I swear I'm not."

"It's okay," Sam soothed, his voice gentle and coaxing, and his fingertips traced gently down her cheek as he offered her an eerily affectionate smile, "it's all going to be okay. You'll see."

Closing her eyes, Vicki blinked back a steady stream of tears, but her breath caught in her chest as Sam's jaw clenched and his fingers grasped the tip of her chin with sudden force.

Her captor's eyes flickered as he stared down at her, and she could see the indecision in his eyes. But to the surprise of the terrified waitress, she also found a fear reflected back at her that almost rivalled her own.

Sam inhaled sharply, as if suddenly shaken from his inner turmoil. His gaze swept the abandoned church and he broke away from his hostage and began to pace the floor. Vicki watched him uncertainly, her brow furrowing as she heard him apparently arguing with himself, his tone growing more angry and frustrated as he strolled up and down the dusty altar.

Bending her head to glance out of the broken windows, Vicky spied the moon hidden behind a barrage of clouds. Focusing on the brightest stars she could find, she began to map the planets and constellations, anything to avoid prompting the panic attack she felt brewing.

Sam Winchester sank to the cold, hard floor, and his head dropped into his hands. When he glanced up again, there were tears in his eyes.

**x-x-x**

The door of the motel room slammed hard against the adjacent wall and had barely begun to swing closed again when Dean stormed inside, every last muscle tensed and coiled in preparation for what he may find. What he did find, however, was an empty room with an ominous tangle of sheets in the centre of the floor.

"God damn it…" Dean snarled, raking one hand through his hair and slamming his other against the wall. Jo moved silently into the bathroom, flicking light switches as she went as she searched for Sam.

"Sam!" she called, her gaze sweeping the vacant motel room as intently as Dean's.

"He's not here, he left already," Dean groaned, his tone utterly despairing and his shoulders hunched as he contemplated their next move quickly. Jo shook her head helplessly, and reached for Dean's hand.

"We'll find him, Dean," she soothed, her fingers entwining with his own and gently squeezing his hand. Dean raised her hand to his lips and placed a quick kiss against her cool skin, before nodding his head in agreement.

"We just have to work out where he'd go," Dean replied, still bobbing his head as he found encouragement in Jo's words and mere presence.

The two hunters stood in an awkward silence, each trying to figure out just how familiar the surrounding area could possibly have become to Sam over the few days they had been staying there, and to what end he had apparently chosen to leave. A gnawing fear surfaced from the pit of Dean's stomach, as he recalled Sam's malaise and strange behaviour after their encounter with the Anti-Cupid.

"Screw this," Jo muttered, digging in her pocket and pulling out her cell phone. Quickly scrolling to find Sam's number, the blonde lifted the phone to her ear and pursed her lips as she awaited or rather prayed for a response.

Dean arched an eyebrow, touched by her obvious concern for his sibling, but dubious of her methods. "Sweetheart, no offence, but if Sammy's all hyped up on Anti-Cupid mojo, I don't think he's gonna be answering his phone..."

"Sam?" Jo suddenly said urgently, her eyes widening defiantly at her boyfriend as she was relieved to hear the younger Winchester finally answer her call, "where the hell are you?"

Wincing, Dean shrugged good naturedly, "Or apparently he will. I'll be shutting up now."

Jo's smile was brief, and she waved her hand to silence him as she stabbed the button on her phone that enabled the speakerphone mode, so Dean too could hear his brother.

"I'm afraid I can't say, Jo," Sam replied, his tone sounding jovial enough to the casual listener, although to Dean there was an obviously strained undercurrent to it.

"Why's that, Sam?" Jo pressed, beginning to pace the expanse of the room, her gaze lowered to the ground as worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

"Well, I'm just a little busy right now," Sam answered easily, as though he was tied up simply doing the laundry or washing the car, or some other equally mundane task.

"Sammy, how you feeling?" Dean interjected, unable to stay quiet any longer, and eager to attempt to coach out of his brother any information that could indicate his location.

Sam laughed softly, an almost incredulous chuckle that instantly set Dean's nerves on edge.

"Honestly? I've never felt better. It's like... It's like everything finally all makes sense, you know?!"

"No," Dean answered gruffly, shaking his head as he and Jo exchanged desperate glances.

"I just... I never knew it could feel like this. But this is it, it's what I've been waiting for, Dean, and I'm not letting it get away this time. I can't let her go, she's... she's everything to me."

"Whoah, whoah, whoah, who's _she_?" Dean tried to force him to backpedal, but Sam was not to be coerced so easily.

"I'd really love for you to be a part of this, Dean… honestly," Sam answered, "but I think we both know you don't understand enough to let me go ahead with this."

Dean swallowed hard, shooting a glance at Jo who had moved on to anxiously chewing her fingernails, "Go ahead with what, Sam?"

Sam's smile was reflected in his voice as he replied, "It's a big day for us. Real big. I guess I should get going now, it's almost…."

The end of Sam's sentence was all but drowned out by a loud rumbling sound that reverberated through the cell phone, almost filling the tiny motel room with its ferocity. Jo arched an eyebrow at Dean, who furrowed his brow as he considered Sam's words.

"Train?" Jo mouthed silently, gesturing to the cell phone from which the noise was beginning to recede before gradually fading into nothingness, and allowing Sam's voice to be restored.

Dean nodded, wincing as Sam's words were garbled by static, but the term 'God's house' quickly caught his attention.

"Sammy?" Dean tried to shout above the interference, "Sammy, you there?"

Sighing in exasperation, Dean ran his hands through his hair and began to pace a circle in the floor, as Jo finally gave in and shoved her phone back into her pocket.

Jo pursed her lips, placing her hand on Dean's shoulder to halt his steps.

"If he hurts this woman," Dean began, licking his lips as his heart began to race at the possibility, "Sam'll never be able to live with himself."

"We'll find him," Jo said resolutely, snatching up the keys to the Impala from the nightstand and depositing them firmly in Dean's hand.

"So, we're looking for a church, by railway tracks... there are town maps in the motel reception."

"How many churches do you think that could be?" Jo pondered aloud, her features clouded with worry and concern. Her heart had begun to pound in her chest as her hunter instincts kicked in, and she realised that the situation was fast becoming dire.

"There's no telling right now," Dean answered, his eyes carrying a steely determination as he added, "but we'll search every last one of them if we have to."

Jo paused, touching Dean's arm lightly with her fingertips and offering him a small but reassuring smile as he glanced down at her.

"We'll find him," she repeated, standing on her tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on the line of his jaw.

Dean gave a curt nod, his fingers curling harder around the keys of the Impala as he replied, "Let's go."

**x-x-x**

The nagging of his conscience had now significantly dulled, and as Sam paced the aisle of the ruined church, his reasoning followed one single-minded path.

The waitress sat in relative silence, save for the quiet sobbing that she had now resigned herself to.

Sam smiled, his hands conducting an invisible orchestra as he bobbed his head and closed his eyes as he let the strains of classical music that emanated from the phone in his hand momentarily steal his attention.

A buoyant smile captured his features however, and as his eyes flashed open, he quickly scrolled through the menu of videos on the tiny screen, and jabbed his thumb at one particular listing.

"Maybe something a little more traditional?" he suggested, kneeling down beside his victim as 'Mendelssohn's Wedding March' began to play.

"I don't know, is that too clichéd?" he mused aloud, pausing to stroke a tendril of damp, matted hair from her cheek. Vicki closed her eyes momentarily, sucking in a deep breath as she waited for Sam's lingering touch to leave her. Only once his hand had returned to his side did she dare speak.

"I… I know that you l-love me…" she stammered, falling silent for a pause as Sam beamed at her in affirmation, "I just wanted you to know… I want this t-too…"

"Hey now, that's better," Sam said softly and gently, crouching down in front of the woman as she sat slumped against the cold stone wall, "that's my girl."

"I just…" she stole another breath, forcing a smile upon her grimy lips, "things would be so much nicer if… if you untied me… don't you think?"

Sam stared at her thoughtfully, before a knowing smile settled on his lips, and he tapped her playfully on the nose. The gesture seemed out of place somehow with the mocking tone of his laughter, and he rose slowly to stand beside her.

"You don't think I'm going to fall for that?!" he chuckled, bending and pressing a kiss to her head as if talking to a child, "but it's okay, I forgive you. We'll work through this... It'll be okay. It'll all be okay now that we're together."

Fresh tears tripped Vicki's cheeks, and she once again peered up at the star filled sky above them, begging for her salvation.

**x-x-x**

Castiel yelled and flailed as he found his body soaring across the abandoned glass factory, before he connected with one corrugated metal wall with a grunt. He had spent the better part of the last five minutes since they had discovered the Anti-Cupid 'having his ass handed to him', as Dean would undoubtedly say. As he dropped to the concrete ground, his head literally spinning, Castiel found himself in no better mood at that particular turn of events.

The Cupid leaned backwards quickly as the Anti-Cupid slashed at her with one extended claw. She righted herself flawlessly without so much as a hair out of place, pausing only to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"I don't have time for this nonsense," she stated, eyeing the Anti-Cupid with almost as much disdain as she levelled at the angel who was busy regrouping.

Castiel's scowl only grew, and he dusted himself off as he peered up at the creature, which snarled and spat in their direction.

"Then anything you can do to expedite this process, I would not object to!" Cas replied, not enjoying being an active participant in a hunt- not in the slightest.

"An angel asking me for help? Well now, imagine that! I might need you to put that in writing, feather butt," Cupid crooned, unsheathing an arrow which she deftly affixed into position on her bow. With the addition of the weapon to her person, she took on a decidedly more deadly countenance, and Castiel regarded her with a renewed sense of respect, although he would be loathed to admit it at a later date.

"Please ensure your aim is accurate, now is not the time for another 'oops' incident," Cas replied. His stoic expression hid the odd sense of satisfaction his reply had elicited. The Cupid's barb had wounded his sense of celestial pride, and Cas had 'unsheathed his claws', as Jo would say.

"And I do not have a feathery posterior," he muttered, wincing as Cupid took aim and the creature stalked toward them, claws outstretched in rage.

"Hold still, you big, ugly dolt," the Cupid almost growled, her bow wavering as she struggled to aim it at the Anti-Cupid, who was now darting in a zig-zag path towards its newest intended victims.

Castiel closed his eyes as the Anti-Cupid finally reached him and seized his collar, lifting the angel effortlessly from the ground so that his legs dangled in the air in a comical manner that Dean would be disappointed to have missed.

From nearby, the sound of an arrow whistling through the air only caused Castiel to screw his eyes closed tighter.

**x-x-x**

Despite the fact that there had indeed been several churches located within two miles of the local train track, only one of those had been listed as both abandoned and condemned. Therefore, Dean and Jo had little trouble in assuming that this should be their first port of call in their attempts to locate Sam and his hostage.

They drove the twelve miles to the churchyard in total silence, Dean hardly glancing at the speedometer even though he knew that the needle must be dancing dangerously close to the 100 mile an hour mark.

Jo narrowed her eyes, sitting up straighter in the passenger seat as the car swung into a deserted parking lot right in front of an old, crumbling church.

"Dean!" Jo said urgently, her gaze instantly focusing on a flickering candle flame that illuminated one of the broken windows.

Dean's heart hammered in his chest, both out of concern for his brother, and also what they may find once they got to him. Though Sam's nature was thoughtful and warm-hearted, Dean knew only too well that he was not the one in control of his actions, and his concerns were not just for the woman held inside, but Sam's own wellbeing should he have caused her any harm.

Jo arched an eyebrow as she watched Dean check the barrel of his gun, and the seriousness of the situation prompted a heavy silence between the couple.

"Stay close," Dean instructed, swallowing hard as Jo bobbed her head and exited the car, "just... just don't take any chances, okay? It's not him in there, it's not Sammy."

"He'll be okay, Dean," Jo reaffirmed, pausing to place her palm against Dean's cheek. He leaned into the comfort of her touch, before nodding his head in agreement.

The hunters stole across the parking lot with their weapons concealed in their jackets, mindful of the handful of cars that were traveling the road just outside the churchyard gates. When they reached the heavy, studded oak door, Dean paused only long enough to call in a hushed whisper for Castiel. He dared to hope that the angel and his new partner had managed to dispatch the Anti-Cupid already, but he realised that this was probably not the case when he received no response. Shooting a look at Jo that communicated both his readiness and his fear, Dean rammed his shoulder into the door, and grunted with the effort as it swung open.

He almost tumbled into the red carpeted aisle, his eyes immediately darting around the building as he sought out Sam and the woman he knew him to be holding. Dean did not have to search long, however, as his gaze befell a dark-haired woman bound at one side of the altar, with his brother looming over her. In Sam's right hand, he wielded a familiar hunting knife that normally resided in the trunk of the Impala alongside the rest of their weapons. Sam held the knife aloft with obvious intent, although he momentarily made no move towards the woman, who was dressed in a waitress uniform from the diner nearby their motel.

"Sam… put down the knife," Jo instructed as she stepped around Dean and made her way down the aisle, her gun in her hand but not raised. Although she knew that Sam was not in full control of his actions, it was still Sam, the man she had come to look upon as a brother, and Jo was reluctant to approach him with anything resembling hostility until the need arose.

Jo skirted around the wall, her gaze flicking between Sam and Dean as she took slow, careful steps toward the man and his captive. The woman stared through wide, fearful eyes at the new arrivals, the skin around her mouth red from where a gag had been removed.

"Help me! Oh please God, help me!" the waitress sobbed, collapsing into a fit of sobs as Dean trained his gun on his brother.

"Sam?" Dean shouted, at once disheartened by the altogether crazed smile that his sibling rewarded him with, "Sammy? Is uh... Is everything okay?"

Sam laughed, his hazel eyes dancing with unbridled joy as he gestured down to the sobbing woman, "Everything's fine. How could it not be now that we're together?!"

Jo and Dean exchanged wary glances, and Jo winced as her boot connected with a shard of broken glass and Sam's head instantly whipped around in her direction.

Quickly affixing a smile to her face, Jo held up her hands in a defensive gesture and halted her steps.

"Come on now, Jo," Sam chided, seeming genuinely disappointed by Jo's purposeful advancing. "Can't you just be happy for me and Vicki? This is all I've ever wanted."

"This just isn't you talking, Sam," Jo replied, shaking her head sadly. Her gaze flitted to the waitress, and she gave her a quick visual once over to ensure her wellbeing. Despite her apparent terror, the woman was unharmed, and Jo had to fight from releasing the sigh of relief she felt building up in her chest.

"Jo's right," Dean agreed, walking towards Sam but stopping abruptly as his brother reached down and yanked the waitress to her feet by the scruff of her collar. "Just let the girl go and we can talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," Sam argued, his lips twisting into a sour frown as he realised that Jo and Dean could not be swayed on the matter, "I love Vicki, and I want to be with her forever. I never got that chance with Jess, so this time I'm going to make sure that nothing and nobody can take her away from me."

He paused just long enough to stare intensely into the waitress' wide eyes, before he lowered his face to hers and crushed their lips together. Vicki struggled, releasing a series of protesting squeaks, although she could not push Sam away due to the fact that her hands were bound together behind her.

Dean turned his head and held Jo's gaze, his eyes widening as he gestured to his brother and held up his hand to indicate the count of three. Jo nodded, skirting around the room as Sam was otherwise engaged . Dean advanced forwards, tilting his gun to the side as he suddenly descended on his brother.

Sam's head whipped up and he all but pushed Vicki aside as he and Dean grappled for control. Jo ran over to the waitress, ignoring her squeal of terror as Jo withdrew her father's hunting knife from her pocket and quickly slashed the tape that bound her hands together.

"It's okay, you're gonna be okay," Jo said urgently, helping the trembling woman from the seat and rushing her over toward the back of the church where she sat her behind an upturned pew.

"Stay quiet, just… don't move," Jo commanded, and the woman nodded her head obediently, feeling too much in the stranger's debt to dare argue with her. Besides, the threat of her captor was still foremost in her mind, and she could hear the continuing struggle as the two men threw punches and yelled at each in other in similarly exasperated and desperate tones.

"Sammy, would you quit acting crazy?" Dean bellowed, "you're all hyped up on angel juice, you don't know what you're doing!"

Sam paused, bent over and panting as he swiped a trickle of blood away from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"No Dean, I know exactly what I'm doing," Sam replied grimly, his eyes locked with his brother's as, quickly and deliberately, he raised the hunting knife to his own wrist, and drew it across his own skin.

His eyes widening in horror, Dean yelled plaintively, "Sammy, no!"

**x-x-x**

Castiel grunted from his position on the factory floor, where he had fallen haphazardly once the wounded Anti-Cupid had released him. The creature staggered across the floor, emitting a high, morose wail as it reached blindly for the arrow jutting out from between its shoulder blades. It crashed into an abandoned production line, sending glass bottles flying across the room, where they shattered into pieces upon impact with the concrete.

"Told you I wouldn't miss," the Cupid sniffed, nodding her approval as her demonic looking counterpart tumbled heavily to the ground, where it began to convulse, a pink light engulfing its body.

Cupid turned away, a sneer upon her lips almost as though she was beginning to find it distasteful to watch her former sibling's demise, and instead she gestured with her hands in such a way that the bow she had wielded melted away into thin air leaving her arms empty.

"Okay…" she began, folding her arms across her as she regarded the angel beside her "let's get the hell out of here."

Surveying the scene of destruction around them, and resting a derisive gaze upon the pile of ashes that was now the remnants of their nemesis, Castiel nodded in ready agreement.

"Gladly."

**x-x-x**

Dean sat astride his brother, who struggled and thrashed beneath him, as he held one arm forcibly against the ground, and Jo used both hands to restrain Sam's now bleeding arm.

The familiar flutter of a trench coat was a welcome sound to both hunters' ears, and Dean and Jo glanced up sharply as Castiel appeared before them, the Cupid at his side.

"Took you long enough," Dean griped, his lips setting into a line of grim determination as he fought to hold down his sibling.

"A little help, Cas?" Jo urged, ducking as Sam managed to break his arm free and his hand connected with her cheek.

"Perhaps you would be so kind…?" Castiel queried, shooting a glance at Cupid, who nodded and rolled up her sleeves before taking a step towards Sam. The younger Winchester bucked and kicked, his eyes alive with triumph as he seemed finally able to throw his brother off his back, and Jo followed suit rather than risk tangling with the crazed hunter who was twice her size.

"Now you listen up, sweetcheeks," Cupid scolded in an acidic tone, shaking her head reproachfully at Sam as he sprang to his feet with the hunting knife still in his hand, and his head whipped round in search of the waitress.

Cupid continued, undeterred despite Sam's apparent frenzy, "We've had quite enough of this, now."

As though he could not even hear the Cupid, Sam barrelled forwards, a guttural and desperate cry escaping his lips. With a shrug, Cupid raised one arm above her head, and allowed the palm of her hand to connect sharply with Sam's cheekbone as he forged on towards her. The hunter immediately stopped dead in his tracks, and the knife clattered to the ground as his senses came rushing back to him along with the memories of his recent actions. Sam winced, both as a consequence of the stinging blow that the angel had delivered to his face, and of the realisation of the wrongs he had committed that evening.

"Oh man…" Sam groaned, looking around the church at his friends and shaking his head as his cheeks began to redden in embarrassment.

"Sammy?" Dean checked, shooting a somewhat sceptical look at his brother, which quickly morphed into an infuriated glare as Sam nodded and offered a sheepish smile.

"What the hell was that?" Jo demanded, "a cosmic bitch slap?"

"Pretty much," Cupid answered, back to her foot tapping demeanour as she surveyed the group of hunters and their adopted angel. "Now, if you crazy kids don't mind, it's been real fun, but I'd better get back to actually doing some real work."

"Real work?" Cas repeated, his cheeks beginning to flame red in anger as he glowered at Cupid, who beamed before offering them a small wave.

"Ciao," she called, vanishing from sight with a flourish and a lingering scent of roses that made Castiel's nostrils twitch and flare.

"You ok, Sam?" Jo inquired, stepping up to her boyfriend's brother and peering at the self-inflicted wound on his lower arm. Sam followed Jo's gaze and winced, although he forced himself to nod his head.

"Nothing seriously wounded but my pride," Sam winced weakly, suddenly spying the dithering waitress who had watched the scene unfold with a wide-mouthed stare of disbelief.

"Oh God, what did I…" Sam began urgently, sinking down to his knees and dropping his head in his hands as realisation suddenly hit, "please tell me I didn't hurt her. Dean?" he glanced up urgently at his sibling, who shook his head and planted a hand firmly on his shoulder.

"No, she'll be okay. We'll get Cas to work his charm and she'll be good as new in no time," Dean assured him, nodding his head at Castiel as he bowed in understanding and walked over to the still trembling woman.

"Have no fear," Cas stated, his expression deadpan and his tone devoid of any real expression, "I am an angel of the Lord."

Vicki stared at him for only a moment, before she released a high pitched sigh and sank to the ground in a faint. Cas cocked his head and observed her for only a moment, before a bored sigh punctuated the silence and he bent down to place a palm to her forehead.

The three hunters watched as a bright light was emitted from the angel's palm, and the terrified expression of the waitress changed to a beatific smile.

"I will return her to her home. She will remember none of what happened this evening," Cas stated, nodding to acknowledge Sam's grateful sentiment. Before any of the hunters could respond, Castiel was gone, having taken the sleeping waitress along with him.

Dean peered at Sam with a level of anxiety that was almost palpable. Sam shook his head, an apology already forming on his tongue as he opened his mouth.

"Guys, I am so…" he began, his lips stretched into a taut grimace. Jo shook her head as Dean simultaneously held up one hand to silence his brother.

"Not another word," Dean protested, "this wasn't your fault."

"Dean, I almost killed a woman… and myself…" Sam countered, his eyebrows raised as he regarded his older brother, who blanched at the mention of Sam's intentions. It had been obvious that Sam, in his Cupid-juice addled state, had been planning some form of lover's suicide pact, but Dean was reluctant to dwell on the consequences the Anti-Cupid's stray arrow had inflicted on his brother. Dean told himself that as long as he continued to do so, he might also manage to successfully avoid the proverbial elephant in the room – the very reason that the Anti-Cupid's magic had turned Sam into a psychopath rather than simply an overly-amorous frat-boy-wannabe. Sam was still heartbroken, and perhaps would always be until the day he died. Dean wondered briefly if this was also the reason that he had seemed so fixated in recent weeks on looking into the curse he believed existed on the Winchester family.

"Let's go," Jo stated, leaving little room for argument as she slid her arm through Sam's and effectively ended the conversation.

Dean cast a gaze around the abandoned church and peered up fleetingly at the evening sky through the holes and gaps in the vaulted ceiling. He swallowed back the prayer he felt bubbling on his lips -that his brother be allowed to finally break free of the grief that still consumed his heart. But instead, he sighed heavily and simply followed on behind them.

They'd stopped listening to his prayers a long time ago.

**x-x-x**

Shivering against the cold, Jo tugged the ends of the over-sized shirt she wore over her hands, as she darted across the wooden floor and practically threw herself under the covers of the bed.

"Jesus, Jo!" Dean exclaimed, shuddering the very instant her icy feet connected with his shin and sent a chill across his entire body.

Jo ignored his griping and burrowed under the blankets, still noticeably shaking as her skin protested against the wintery temperatures with a rash of prominent goosebumps.

"I'm not made for cold weather, Dean," she protested, her voice muffled from behind the comforter she clutched up around her chin.

Dean smirked in the darkness, pausing to encircle Jo in his arms and pull her into his chest. Jo curled into Dean's body, her right hand finding purchase on the back of his neck as her right leg hooked around his knee.

"I can think of some other ways to share body heat," Dean chuckled, running the tip of one index finger cheekily across the top of Jo's thigh.

Jo laughed and caught his hand, lacing their fingers together before craning her neck to press a kiss against his lips, "Sorry Dean-o, no clothing of any kind will be coming off tonight."

She reached blindly in the darkness to pull the throw from the bottom of the bed up across them, adding to the protection she sought from the freezing winter's night.

A wide smile lit her face as she felt his lips brush against her neck, and his fingers tangled in the ends of her hair whilst he bared more of her skin to his kisses.

"I can totally work around that," he offered, and the smug grin that twitched at his lips was quickly overcome by Jo's mouth against his own.

Turning in his arms, Jo beamed up at him in the darkness and giggled as his lips once again descended enthusiastically on hers.

"Who needs Cupid, huh?!" she teased softly, her palm cupping his cheek.

Dean turned his head to kiss her palm, and simply shrugged; the information the Cupid had imparted only now just beginning to sink in. Jo Harvelle had been chosen for him; they had been quite literally destined to be together and, despite the enormity of that implication, Dean couldn't help but smile even wider.

He traced his finger down the bridge of her nose and brushed her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, as he slowly shook his head, "Not us!"

Jo would never know just how true those words were.

Down the hall, away from the sound of whispers and stifled laughter, Sam slept fitfully, his mind once more overcome with faces and voices from the past. Exhaustion was not enough to keep him tethered to his dreams, and with a cry of terror and despair, he sat bolt upright in bed.

His heart hammered in his chest, and beads of perspiration ebbed down his forehead and he fought to regulate his breathing as he blinked against the images that were still burned into the back of his eyelids.

Sam's entire body trembled, and he gulped for oxygen, the events of the day coming rushing back to him alongside the images from his nightmares. After several painful seconds, Sam hunkered down under the duvet, pulling it up under his chin and across his shoulders as though it could provide some real protection against the face that haunted him relentlessly.

Sam did not find sleep again that night, as the stench of Jessica's burning flesh stayed with him long until it was overridden by the smell of Dean's morning coffee brewing in the pot.

**The End of Episode Ten**

**(Next Episode – Them Bones)**

* * *

><p><strong>A big 'thank you' to all who continue to follow this fic, we'll hopefully be able to update more frequently now RL has calmed down a little. For all you Sam fan out there, stay tuned for future episodes and a new original character. ;)<strong>

**Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated!**


	31. Chapter 31

_**Episode 11 – Part 1**_

'_**Them Bones'**_

_**x-x-x**_

_**St. Paul, Minnesota**_

_**December 1**__**st**__** 2011**_

Those things which first appear to be too good to be true usually are, and yet Dean told himself that he was being paranoid as he, Sam and Jo embarked on the journey towards what was to be their first paying hunt in a long time. With the new Roadhouse doing well, and the majority of the bills taken care of with enough left over to live comfortably, money was no longer an issue for the hunters, however, it was not in Dean's genetic make-up to turn down a job that promised $10,000 on completion – especially when the place in question appeared to be a veritable hotspot of paranormal activity. Jo, who was always up for an old fashioned ghost hunt, had quickly agreed to the job. Although she had only hired her sole interviewee a week beforehand, Jo had found herself warming to Sophia almost immediately, and so it was with relative confidence that she had left the tall, auburn haired woman behind the bar, fairly certain that no calamity would befall it or her patrons in her absence. Indeed, Jo had even felt secure enough to leave a shotgun beneath the counter, after ensuring that Sophia was properly trained in how to use it, should the need arise.

Sam, however, who was suffering more and more from his apparent inability to sleep, had dragged his heels and argued sullenly about his need to accompany them on the hunt. Finally, after several hours of back and forth between the brothers, Dean had managed to wear him down on the issue, but Sam had remained completely silent throughout the entire car journey. Instead, he had sat in the back seat, refusing to share his chips with Dean, and hunkering over his cell phone. Every few minutes, the cell would bleep insistently, signifying the arrival of a new message, and Sam would once again become temporarily immersed in a reply.

Dean glanced back at his brother through the overhead mirror, and he and Jo exchanged amused smiles.

"So, Sophia's kind of cute, huh Sammy?" Dean teased, secretly thrilled that his brother and their new employee seemed to have become fast friends – although as the older brother, he obviously intended to express his approval via banter and juvenile teasing.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Anything with two X chromosomes turns your head, Dean," he replied, not fully able to muster a scowl as he read the new message that appeared on the screen before him. His fingers moved quickly and efficiently as he typed a reply, and he felt his mood lifting considerably as he looked forward to their impending hunt with a renewed rumble of enthusiasm.

"I'm just being friendly, Dean," Sam protested, "she's been here a week and we're leaving her alone already. I just want to make sure she's okay. I mean, you've met the roadhouse patrons, right?!"

Jo leant her elbow on the side of the car door and rested her head in her hand, content to let the brothers bicker this one out alone.

"Whatever you say, dude," Dean shook his head, chuckling to himself as he noted with pride that Sam's cheek were blushing a profuse shade of pink.

"Jerk," Sam muttered.

"Bitch," Dean deflected, his tone carefree and light-hearted. He adjusted the volume of the radio as the strains of a 70's rock song crackled through the static, and almost immediately began drumming his hands on the steering wheel in time with the raucous drum solo.

Sam smiled and averted his gaze back to his phone, delighted that Sophia was proving to be an amusing texting partner, expertly volleying banter and witty retorts. Of course, he also had to concede that the new bar manager was incredibly capable, and also very pretty, and despite his protestations, he liked her very much and found himself instantly at ease in her company.

"So, what do we know about this place?" Dean asked, having only briefly skimmed the folder of information Sam had compiled about the history of their hunt venue.

The allure of hot cocoa and a Die Hard marathon on TV the previous evening had been too much of a draw away from book work. They had gotten through a snarling Alan Rickman and a hijacked airport before the appeal of certain other couch activities had left Dean caring far more about Jo's new festive underwear than John McClane's personal safety.

"Dean?" Sam checked, eyebrows raised as he leant forward in his seat and eyed his sibling closely, "you even listening?"

Dean shook his head, feeling his face burning red as he found his wayward brain had fixated on the details of last night, and he grudgingly blinked away images of scarlet bras and mistletoe trimmed panties.

"Huh?" he replied, not even attempting a more coherent response.

Sam sighed dramatically, catching the conspirital smirk that passed between Dean and Jo, and the latter gazed up at her boyfriend with a clearly flirtatious twinkle in her brown eyes.

"Old Mount View Hospital," Sam began, producing a folder from the backseat which he flipped open and began to scan impatiently, "built in 1902 as a TB sanatorium, the biggest in the state, the place saw over 13,000 patients until it closed for good in 1961..."

"It reopened in 1963 as a mental hospital, and a couple of the pavilion buildings were used to treat war veterans," Jo chimed in, turning her head to look at Sam as he shot her a curious expression.

"I do my research," Jo shrugged, touching the tip of her tongue to her top lip as she added, "some of us can multi-task."

Dean shot Jo a look which was largely unreadable, although a smile danced across his lips as his eyes began to mist over again with an almost nostalgic, glassy appearance.

"Eyes on the road, sweetheart," Jo said, patting Dean's cheek with the back of her hand.

"Almost there, anyways," replied Dean, swinging the wheel hard to the left as a dirt road came into view. The bushes surrounding overhung the car's path, and they subsequently whipped at the windows and roof as the hunters crawled along at a snail's pace.

"When did this place close down for good?" Dean inquired, squinting through the windscreen at the narrow road ahead, which was plunged into near darkness due to the early falling winter evening and the copse of trees lining it.

"Sometime in the mid- nineties," answered Sam without looking up from his cell, which he began to slap in irritation as the bars on his signal receded into near nothingness.

"Losing your signal there, Sammy?" Dean teased, the corners of his lips twitching. Sam shot a scowl at his brother, before plunging the cell back into his pocket without another glance. He would check for a signal later once they arrived in the building, and hopefully manage to find somewhere quiet to check in with Sophia.

The Impala drew to a halt in front of two large, foreboding iron gates, and Jo quickly exited the car with a flashlight and searched out the padlock for which they'd been given the combination. She was surprised to find the lock already open, the chain hanging freely down to the ground, but she assumed vandalism was rife in places like this so didn't give it a second thought, and she pushed the gates open with Sam's assistance.

Hurrying back to the car, Jo shivered against the flakes of snow that had landed on her cheeks, and as Sam's door slammed closed, Dean pulled the car up slowly toward the main building.

"Wow," Jo breathed, her eyes widening as she swept her gaze over the large, dilapidated building, which fitted the horror movie cliché in every imaginable way. Broken windows were dotted around the red brick structure and raggedy remnants of drapes and curtains billowed from them, visible even in darkness. The gothic architecture of the place was stunning yet foreboding, and Jo instantly felt pity for the souls whose last view of the outside world had been arriving at this tragic and maudlin place.

"Nice digs," Dean remarked, bending his head to get a better look at the crumbling hospital, as Sam did likewise from the back seat.

"How much salt did we pack, again?" Sam asked, only half-joking as he swallowed down a lump of apprehension that had begun to form in his

Dean's wince mirrored his brother's, but he shrugged off his concerns as merely a pre-hunt adrenalin rush. "Don't worry about it Sammy boy, we got half the Dead Sea back there in the trunk, and enough gasoline to fuel a tanker."

Sam shot a sceptical look at his brother, who focused his attention on pulling the Impala into one of the many vacant parking spaces at the front of the building. The lot was devoid of life save for a shiny, silver Lexus, which Dean presumed to be the owner's car.

Jeff Nabley had called Dean directly on his cell phone a few days prior, claiming he had obtained the number from a mutual friend, who he refused to name. Dean had been suspicious at first, but Jeff's apparent familiarity with the supernatural world, and his mention in passing that he knew Bobby Singer from years gone by, had both reassured Dean that the gig was a fairly valid one.

The hunters piled out of the car with a degree of reluctance, Sam hefting his bag, and Jo swinging her shotgun on its strap over her shoulder. They stood side by side behind the Impala as they peered up at the building, varying degrees of trepidation filling them.

"Ok, let's grab some supplies and head into the lobby," Dean said, his tone somewhat hushed as though he were afraid of being overheard, despite the fact that their presence at the Old Mount View hospital had been fully sanctioned by the owner.

"I'm still not sure about this, Dean," Sam stated, even as he foraged in the open trunk for salt, holy water, and spare shotgun rounds.

"Nothing we can't handle," Dean stated confidently, "simple salt and burn, and then we head home for eggnog and tree trimming."

Sam sighed, hefting his bag up onto his shoulder as he followed at his brother's heel, Jo walking steadily at his side. If history had taught him anything, it was that nothing was ever that simple for the Winchesters.

Jo paused as they reached the main door of the building, and she picked up the open padlock that hung on a short length of chain.

"The lock on the main gates was open too," she stated, her inherent spidey-senses tingling as she allowed Dean to push the door open, her shotgun now aimed at the darkness within.

"Kids?" Sam suggested, shrugging as Jo, and now also Dean, looked visibly concerned.

The hunters stepped gingerly into the building, their three flashlight beams crossing as they stepped through the rubble, debris, and broken furniture, and came to a stop in front of the old reception desk and a large, imposing staircase.

Jo glanced up toward the ceiling as the unmistakable sound of footfalls instantly caught her attention, and both Dean and Sam drew their guns and gestured for each of them to take slow, measured steps in the direction of the disturbance.

"Mr. Nabley?" Dean called out, his voice strong and clear, even despite his edginess. He gestured to Sam, signalling that his brother should skirt around the bottom of the staircase, and wait on the rickety bottom step. Sam did as silently instructed, levelling his shotgun filled with rock salt shells at the top of the stairs, from which the scraping sound resounded once more.

Jo's foot was on the next step before Dean could argue, and his girlfriend ascended the staircase quickly with largely silent footfalls. Dean followed in her wake, just as rapid in his movements but decidedly less quiet.

"Jo!" he hissed in warning, gritting his teeth as his irritation peaked at Jo's impetuousness.

Just as she drew level with the top step, Dean heard Jo inhale sharply, and in the next moment, she drew back her right fist and plunged it forwards into the darkness.

A decidedly feminine scream rang out throughout the upper level of the house and, believing it to be Jo herself, Sam arrived at the top of the staircase having taken them two at a time.

"Jo? Jo?!" Dean called out urgently, arriving at her side seconds after a stumbling figure fell at his girlfriend's feet, whaling and moaning louder than any spectre or ghost he'd ever seen.

"Oh my God! Don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me!" the man shouted, cowering against the ground as Jo clenched and unclenched her fist and winced at the dull ache now radiating from her knuckles.

"Son of a bitch!" she muttered, glaring in disdain at the man slowly climbing to his feet, his face hidden behind his hands in a defensive posture.

Dean narrowed his eyes as he shone his flashlight right into the face of the intruder, and a sinking realisation overcame him.

Jo's eyes widened at the string of expletives that left her boyfriend's lips, and Dean sighed in abject annoyance at the figure of the short, weedy, dark haired man.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean barked, aiming his flashlight straight into the stranger's face.

Sam groaned outwardly, and Jo's head whipped around as she heard a similar string of curse words leave the younger Winchester's mouth.

"You guys know each other?" Jo inquired, her eyes ticking from Dean to Sam to the man on the floor, who she had decked only seconds before.

"Unfortunately, yes," responded Sam, his eyes narrowing as he glared with open hostility at the stranger lying on the floor. "I swear to God, if you shove a camera in my face, I'll shove it up your ass."

"Motion seconded," said Dean caustically, his gaze darting about the darkened landing area as though he were searching for the offending item.

"A camera?" Jo repeated, "why the hell would he have a…"

She trailed off, interrupted by the sound of a second pair of footsteps approaching rapidly from the other side of the landing. Jo raised her shotgun to her shoulder in an instant, moving so fast that her hand was barely a blur.

"Harry! Harry, dude, are you ok?!" a second male voice demanded, sounding shrill and alarmed as it bounded along the hallway.

"One more step and I blow your head off," Jo called out almost jovially into the darkness. There was a sharp intake of breath, and slowly, Ed Zeddmore came into view, a flashlight clamped between his teeth as he raised both arms above his head as though he was in an old cops and robbers movie.

Motioning that he was going to move the flashlight to his hand, Ed waved pointedly at Jo.

"Now, now just calm down there, ma'am!" he directed, audibly gulping as he heard the safety catch being pointedly released.

"What the hell is going on?" Jo demanded, watching as Ed helped his friend up from the ground, and the two glared accusingly at the blonde.

Brushing his fingertips underneath his nose, Harry stared up at her in abject horror, "You broke my nose! I think you broke my nose!"

Turning to his friend, Harry began fussing, sniffling as Ed produced a Kleenex from his pocket and handed it to his colleague with a comforting pat on the shoulder.

Harry dabbed delicately at his bleeding nostrils, as Jo hoisted her gun up onto her shoulder and folded her arms across her chest.

Dean cleared his throat, figuring he owed his girlfriend an explanation, or as close to it as he could get. "Okay, you know those trashy cable shows where some assholes run around with cameras trying to get Casper to show up to make 'em rich and famous?"

Jo narrowed her eyes, "Yeah…"

Dean gestured to the two men, his expression betraying his obvious irritation, "Meet the Ghostfacers."

Ed and Harry offered her meek smiles and a wave, before Ed cleared his throat and ventured to bravely take a step forward, holding his hand up and bowing his head.

"Uhhhh… I feel like I need to interject , your buddy here was a little misleading… We're not doing this for the money. We're here to advance the fields of parapsychology and physical sciences. We're not here for the glory, we're here to give the gift of knowledge to the world, to truly expand their understanding of things we cannot yet explain here in our plain of existence."

"Shut up," Jo commanded, rolling her eyes and turning to Dean, her expression one of abject horror. "Why are they here, Dean?"

"One of life's greatest mysteries, sweetheart," he replied with a hearty sigh, watching through narrowed eyes filled with murderous intent as Ed produced a handheld video camera from his rucksack, and began to fiddle with the lens cap.

"Hey, we're here because Mr. Nabley called us personally and asked to be here," Harry interrupted, his scowl as fierce as he could manage in the direct face of Jo and her shotgun.

"Mr. Nabley?" Dean repeated, his voice a low growl as he reaffirmed, "Jeff Nabley?"

"Uh, yeah," confirmed Harry, looking to Ed for support. However, his partner was too busy polishing his camera on his sleeve to really take note, and Harry turned back to Dean with a nervous smile as he added, "He said there was six thousand big ones in it for us if we managed to clear the restless spirits out of this place."

"He offered us ten," Jo said, her tone deadpan and her expression infuriated as she shot Dean a look and an arched eyebrow.

"Great," Sam began to pace, running his hands through his hair as he shook his head in disbelief at their situation. It was becoming more than apparent that they had been well and truly screwed over, and the idea of being stuck in a confined space with Ed, Harry, and their team was unpalatable to say the least.

"That son of a bitch!" Dean snarled, fumbling in his pocket for his cell phone as he turned on his heel and began to jog down the stairs, Jo and Sam matching him step for step.

Mid-way down the steps he paused and turned, jabbing his finger in Ed and Harry's direction, "You idiots, wait there, and don't move!"

"Yes sir," Harry nodded, still a little in terrified awe of the Winchesters after their last encounters with the famous monster hunting brothers. Ed hissed disapprovingly at his friend, and the two began a whispered argument as the three hunters descended the stairs.

Dean scrolled through his contacts list, blindly reaching for the door and attempting to throw it open. He stopped in his tracks, blinking in surprise as he found the heavy wooden door was now locked and totally immoveable.

"What the hell?!" he began, pressing his shoulder to the door as he attempted once more to open it with no success.

"Oh you've gotta be kidding me," Jo groaned, her head lolling back and a deep sigh escaping her as she realised that the entrance had been sealed shut.

Dean stepped back from the door, pulling his handgun from the holster before aiming it at the lock and squeezing the trigger. The shot echoed around the cavernous hallway, and Sam shot a glare in the direction of the staircase as the sound of feet thundering down the steps came to his attention.

"Feel better?" Jo asked brightly as she watched Dean jiggle the door handle unsuccessfully.

A further string of expletives escaped Dean's lips, and Ed and Harry exchanged glances.

"Should we use a separate bleeping sound for Dean to everyone else this time?" Harry mused, quirking a brow at Ed, who appeared to consider the idea for several seconds.

"Oh no," Dean snarled, advancing on the two men, who each held up their cameras in front of themselves as though they may offer some kind of real protection from the enraged hunter.

"Absolutely no filming of any kind at any point during this God-damn nightmare," growled Dean, looking to Sam for back up. His brother nodded vehemently, whilst Jo looked on with an expression that promised violence.

"What in the world?!" a male voice declared, as a large, well-built man sped down the stairs two at a time, his eyes wide with terror, "I thought I heard a gunshot. Is this a home invasion? Are we being robbed?!"

"Who the hell is this?" Dean demanded, not missing a beat as the guy took shelter behind Ed and Harry, and regarded the hunters with obvious trepidation.

Ed cleared his throat and gestured back toward the newcomer, "This is our psychic, Derek. Sadly, Spruce decided he could no longer handle the demands of life as a Ghostfacer, and Maggie is away at MIT, so we were forced to expand our team in other ways."

Dean's gaze swept over the man and his eyebrows shot up at the sight of his tight black pants and billowing silk tunic. An enormous quartz crystal hung around his neck, and his long, blonde hair tumbled down his back in a fashion not too dissimilar to Ash. The comparison however, ended there.

"Charmed, I'm sure," Derek spat, his lip curling as he planted a hand on his hip and looked Dean, Sam, and Jo up and down with obvious disdain.

Sam rolled his eyes, already figuring that this 'psychic' was as much connected to the other side as the cheeseburgers they had eaten for lunch.

"Asshats," Jo mumbled, about to inform them of the consequences of directing a camera in her general vicinity when the sound of breaking glass caught all their attentions.

"Oh man, oh man, this is it!" Harry all but squealed, the pain in his nose forgotten as the promise of actual spirit activity loomed on the horizon. He fumbled with his camera, almost dropping it and subsequently cursing as he managed to catch it before it hit the hard tiled floor, much to Dean's chagrin.

"You three, stay behind us," Dean commanded, taking the lead with Sam at his side, both hunters having drawn their shotguns into their shoulders and cocked the safety catches. Jo walked several paces behind them, holding their old but trusty EMF metre in her right hand whilst she wielded an iron crowbar in the other. Jo frowned as the needle failed to make even the slightest jump and yet from up ahead, the sounds of obvious movement filled the dark and dank hallway.

Sam shot a pointed look at the three civilians trailing in their wake, his finger pressed to his lips in a demand for silence. Derek, the supposed psychic, tutted and then rolled his eyes, tossing his ponytail over his shoulder for good measure in order to fully demonstrate his disdain. Sam only narrowed his eyes in response before turning away from Derek, and instead focusing his attention on the commotion occurring up ahead. The sound of whispered, urgent voices now prickled at his ears, and Sam felt the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to rise in anticipation. However, the EMF needle still failed to so much as twitch, and Jo thwacked it with her hand as her faith in it started to dwindle.

Jo moved carefully to stand between the brothers, and each wielded their weapon in preparation as they turned the corner. The resultant yelling sent Harry, Ed, and Derek running for cover, as the Winchesters found themselves face to face with two fellow hunters.

"Jesus Christ, if it isn't the Winchester brothers!" the man chuckled gleefully, lowering his weapon and apparently ignoring the sour faced expression that passed between the siblings in question.

"Jimmy Grant," Dean crooned, mirroring the man's smile for only a moment before he lowered his shotgun and glanced between the man and his female counterpart, "what are you doing here?"

Jimmy shrugged, and the short, dark haired woman beside him folded her arms across her chest as she heaved a dramatic sigh of exasperation and interrupted their forced pleasantries.

"This is our hunt," she stated, making no attempt at tact or diplomacy, "the question should be what are _you_ doing here?"

Dean laughed, his lips drawn into a tight, thin line as he arched an eyebrow and replied, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you seem to be a little confused. You see Jeff Nabley hired us to do the ghostbusting around here. This is our gig."

"I don't think so," Jimmy shook his head, pursing his lips as he ran a hand through his thick black hair and flashed Jo a toothy smile, pretending to ignore Dean and Sam for as long as possible. When he eventually returned his gaze to the two men, he narrowed his eyes as he mulled over the recent rumblings on the hunter grapevine that were now pricking his interest. "Wait a minute, last I heard, you two were off playing house in Nebraska?"

Harry and Ed were whispering conspiritally in the corner, taking in the scene playing out from what they hoped was a safe distance. Derek paced the hallway a little further away, shaking the phone in his hand as he tried desperately to get a signal to all but order that his agent get him the hell out of there. Things were not turning out as he'd been led to believe they would. Make up a few stories, talk about lost spirits, a fake possession or two, and it was easy money. He was sure this recent turn of events went against the finer details of his contract.

"We're still in the game," Sam replied, although his answer was more a retort than a civil response. Jimmy arched a thick brow, his lips quirking into a smirk, but he did not press the issue further.

"I see that," he answered finally, turning his attention to Jo, his eyes roving her body in an almost hungry manner. "And who's your friend, here? Not seen you around before, and this job's no place for amateurs."

"I can hold my own," said Jo, almost sweetly, although Dean could read the look on her face expertly now. Her features were drawn into a cold, hard mask of contempt, and he knew that she was only seconds away from a total meltdown. Truth be told, Dean was contemplating an epic hissy fit of his own, given the fact that he had been systematically lied to, duped, and conned into rocking up at the current hunt with his brother and his girlfriend. To say that Dean was infuriated was an understatement, and so he shot Jo a look of knowing sympathy which she greeted with a wan smile.

"Hope you're right," the woman at Jimmy's side piped up, her lips pursed as she surveyed Jo, "because don't expect us to be saving your sorry ass, cupcake."

Jo tapped one foot against the floorboards in annoyance, and Sam whistled quietly at the gall of the strange woman, who seemed either to not notice or not care that she was pushing every last one of Jo's buttons simultaneously.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, _cupcake_," Jo stated, her eyes flashing in the dim torchlight as she peered at the other woman, "but aren't you guys locked in here right along with the rest of us 'amateurs'?"

"Not for long," the woman retorted confidently, "once we bag ourselves this ghost, we're gonna be out of here before morning."

Jo snorted with amusement, "Something tells me this place isn't exactly planning on playing fair. But hey, who are we to stop you?! You guys go your way, we'll go ours."

"Sounds good to me," Dean agreed, and Sam simply shrugged in agreement.

Jimmy however seemed less keen on the idea of splitting up, and he grabbed the jacket sleeve of his friend as she attempted to storm away.

"Dani, wait!" he cajoled, lowering his voice so it was with barely an audible hiss as he whispered in her ear. From her infuriated response, it wasn't difficult to obtain that Jimmy's plans for ganking and escaping involved pooling resources and a little friendly cooperation. From the expression Dani shot him as he released her sleeve, she had other, very different ideas.

"No!" she objected loudly to his whispered propositions, shoving him backwards with enough force that Sam began to ascertain that perhaps their relationship went beyond purely professional. Seldom had he seen people fight with as much passion and anger - with the exception of his brother and Jo, although the level of underlying resentment and aggression he was now witnessing was absent from their far more playful tiffs.

Sam couldn't help but wonder if perhaps this particular relationship had begun to turn sour, and a definite tension hung in the air between them.

"Hey, you two feel free to carry on with your little domestic, we're gonna go smoke out some spooks," Dean announced, raising his hand in a mock salute to the couple before he turned on his heel, and Sam and Jo flashed parting smiles in their direction.

"Uh, guys?" Ed held up his hand as if talking to his grade school teacher, "who should we go with?"

"Them," five voices chorused in perfect unison, the two different sets of hunters shooting each other poisonous looks as soon as the words were uttered.

"Hey…" Harry whined in protest, rubbing the top of his arm with one hand and looking vaguely crestfallen at the blatant slight the hunters were placing upon them. Their 'medium' chose that moment to storm back into the midst of the group, having jammed his cell angrily into the back pocket of his leather pants, which strained under the effort of containing it. His eyes darted back and forth between the hunters, and he seemed agitated to say the least.

"We work alone," Ed interjected hurriedly, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose and sneering at Sam, who shook his head slightly in disbelief, "like The Lone Gunman…"

"There were three of them," said Sam, his smile tight but smug.

"Look, can we all just cut the bull here," Dani snapped, beginning to tug her dark hair into a ponytail using a plain elastic that she had been wearing on her wrist. As her hands moved to fix her hair in place, her biceps rippled, and Jo's eyes were drawn to the tattoo that adorned her upper arm. Although the light was poor, Jo could just about discern the outline of a snake weaving its way up the woman's arm. Jo had never been one to favour tattoos, much to her mother's delight, and indeed the only one she possessed was the small protection symbol that Dean and Sam had coerced her into getting. Dani's tattoo gave her a decidedly more dangerous air, especially coupled with her obnoxious attitude, black combat boots, and heavy eyeliner.

"I guess this would go a whole lot faster if we pooled our resources," Sam said quietly, shrugging as both Dean and Jo glared at him in displeasure.

Sam shot a pleading, and he hoped persuasive look toward his brother and Jo, and in frightening synchronicity, the pair each huffed aloud and folded their arms across their respective chests.

"Fine," Dean spat through clenched teeth, hoisting his gun up onto his shoulder as he pointed to Jimmy, "you, quit checking out my girlfriend, you…" he jabbed a finger toward Ed and Harry, "just… just don't touch anything, don't do anything, don't even breathe without we tell you to."

The two men were about to reply with suitably affronted remarks when Dean continued on undeterred, this time gesturing to Dani, who was flicking the tip of her tongue repeatedly against her top lip in an undeniably predatory gesture as she met his gaze, "As for you sweetheart, how about you just power down the whole 'wicked bitch of the east' act, huh?"

Dani stared impassively at the hunter, before crossing her arms and adopting the expression of a petulant teenager.

"We need a plan," Jo stated, finding herself silenced by the sudden whirring of the EMF metre in her hand. Jimmy too started suddenly as he retrieved a similar gadget from his jacket pocket and hoisted the instrument into the air.

Dani grinned, her pearly white teeth seemingly glowing in the darkness, and she crooned in a mock sing-song voice, "They're here…"

"Shut up," Jo snapped, taking a few steps back in the direction they had come only minutes before. The needle on the EMF metre jumped erratically, and the machine emitted a high pitched squeal that set every last one of Jo's nerves on edge.

"That way," said Sam decisively, following behind Jo with his shotgun readied in preparation to offer her back up, should it be required. However, Jimmy and Dani remained rooted to the spot, the former holding his own EMF metre in the opposite direction. His clearly expensive device screeched in a similar fashion to the one Jo held, indicating that any supernatural activity was bound to occur in the opposite direction.

"No, this way," argued Jimmy, shouldering his own shotgun and scowling at Sam in obvious displeasure.

"Well, maybe your equipment is broken," Dean suggested, enjoying the infuriated look that passed across Dani's features. She frowned, turning her back on Dean and pretending to busy herself with holstering a hunting knife in her boot.

"My equipment is never broken," Jimmy countered, "this is top of the range machinery… not some piece of shit, broken-up old Walkman."

Dean glowered at the other hunter, choosing to ignore the barb in favour of striding off towards his brother and girlfriend.

"We're going this way," Jo said, shrugging at the other two hunters, who were already in the process of marching off with their equipment in the opposing direction.

"And we're going this way," spat Dani, only pausing long enough to call out over her shoulder, before she hurried along the corridor after her partner, who was grumbling audibly about the whole situation.

Ed, Harry and Derek exchanged confused glances, their expressions ranging from comically helpless to entirely terrified. After a moment, Ed simply shrugged, and then clapped Harry on the shoulder.

"I'll take The Justice League, you follow Pinky and the Brain," he ordered, already speeding off in the Winchesters' wake. Derek sputtered, his head whipping from Ed and Harry before he finally seemed to make a decision and scuttled off after Ed with a groan.

"And Harry?" Ed called out in the eerie blackness, his voice now seeming to be disembodied since he had all but disappeared from sight. "Don't miss a thing!"

Nodding vehemently, and with an utterly determined glower, Harry raised his camera and jogged down the long, narrow hallway in search of his latest cast.

* * *

><p><strong>See, we said we'd be back sooner rather than later. And who doesn't love the Ghostfacers?! Also, we had about 700 readers for our last chapter and 4 reviews. We appreciate every single one of those reviews we have received, but we'd love for some of you shy lurkers to let us know what you think of the story so far! Thanks for reading, guys. <strong>


	32. Chapter 32

_**Episode 11 – Part 2**_

'_**Them Bones'**_

_**x-x-x**_

The corridor was impossibly long and cold, with pale green walls that were marred horribly by damp and mould. The walls were, however, devoid of any signs of graffiti, almost as though the vandals themselves had respected the old ghost stories well enough to avoid the risk of trifling with the spirits who may wander the decrepit building still.

Dean stood directly in the centre of Sam and Jo, his eyes sweeping the distance in front of them as best he could given the lack of lighting. Ed followed along behind them with Derek clutching at his sleeve in obvious fear. The camera he held aloft was already set to record and through the lens Ed could see that every breath they took was visible to the naked eye.

"I wonder what it is," Ed mused aloud, although his voice was somewhat hushed. He glanced at the psychic behind him, prompting deliberately, "Derek?"

"I don't know," Derek hissed, his eyes wide with terror, "I'm too busy being piss your pants scared to think of a good story right now."

Ed sighed, "Derek, I'm beginning to have serious reservations about your psychic abilities."

The man beside him ignored the barb, his eyes bugging as a discernible chill fell upon the small, abandoned room. Taking their cue from the three hunters, the two men fell silent.

"The EMF metre's going crazy," Jo stated. Each of the hunters peered around the room in an attempt to ascertain the position of the ghost that was sending their equipment readings through the roof.

"I don't see anything," Sam said cautiously, squinting to peer through the darkness as their flashlight beams illuminated the farthest recesses of the room, and four small wrought iron bed frames were brought into view.

Jo gasped suddenly as she felt a sharp tug on the hem of her jacket, and she glanced down to find neither hunter was near her.

"Something just pulled on my jacket," she announced, checking to ensure that she had not stumbled into an item of furniture that had snagged her clothing.

"Woah, you had full on contact with an apparition?" Ed said excitedly, swinging his camera around to Jo and taking several rapid steps towards her.

"Get that God damn thing out of my face," snarled Jo, slapping at Ed as he all but shoved the camera up her nose.

"Sorry, sorry," Ed backtracked, his grin wide and excitable as he continued to direct the lens at Jo, who glowered at him with a kind of unbridled fury that Ellen Harvelle would have been proud of. "Jo, can you describe to us exactly what just happened?"

"Sure," Jo said brightly, "I encountered a spirit, and then some asshat Peter Parker wannabe got in my face with a camera. Then I shoved it right up his…"

"Ok sweetheart," Dean interjected, wrapping his arm around Jo's shoulder and steering her away from Ed, who appeared crestfallen at her refusal to cooperate.

"Are you sure something touched you?" Sam inquired, running the EMF metre over every last inch of Jo's body as she stood obligingly still. As he reached the lower tails of her jacket, the metre let out a squeal, and Sam quirked his brow at Dean.

"Great, looks like I made a friend," Jo said, her lip curled in a mixture of nervousness and irritation.

"Must be your winning personality," Dean replied, bending to brush a kiss against Jo's cheek.

Ed lowered the camera from his eye line and his face visibly lit up as he regarded Dean and Jo, the former standing with his hand resting in the centre of his girlfriend's back.

"Wait a second, are you two… you know… hooking up? Because this is gonna be awesome for ratings, I mean, everyone loves a romance, right?! And since Maggie and Harry parted ways, this could be like the romance of... at least the season." Ed smiled widely at Dean and Jo, who both glared at him with unmasked hostility. Ed laughed lamely, clearing his throat as he nodded toward Jo's hand that rested on Dean's forearm, "That uh… that a wedding ring?"

Sam smiled to himself, muttering something Ed couldn't quite decipher, except for the words 'death' and 'wish'.

Ed shrank back, clearing his throat as he held up one hand and backed into a corner, avoiding the gaze of all three hunters as he sank to the ground in defeat.

"Alright, let's set up camp here… see what comes out to play," Dean announced, and Sam and Jo nodded in ready agreement.

Ed's ears pricked up, and he held up a hand in defiance, "Wait a minute. So what's the plan? We sit here and wait for something invisible to touch us in bad places?!"

Dean paused, a slow smile forming on his lips, before he shook his head and all signs of amusement were dispelled.

"The plan is, you shut your mouth, sit your ass down, and do as you're told," Dean replied, hoisting his bag off his shoulder and setting it down on the floor at his feet. He began to busy himself with the task of removing canisters of salt from the bag, whilst Jo concentrated on standing as far away from Ed and the view of his camera as possible.

"You could be a little more polite, you know," Ed grumbled, drawing his knees into his chest and sighing as Derek dropped down at his side.

Sam whipped around, facing the other man with a disbelieving expression in place.

"What's the matter with you two?" he demanded, shaking his head to demonstrate his lack of understanding, "didn't you learn your lesson at the Morton house? You buried a friend on that job."

"Seriously?" Jo demanded, her disgust evident as she shot Ed a look. He shifted uncomfortably, turning away from Jo's scrutiny.

"And we mourned," defended Ed, ignoring the fact that Derek was now staring at him aghast. They had neglected to mention Corbett's death to those applying for the latest opening in the Ghostfacer team, fearing that it would perhaps put off potential team members to learn of the very real danger the job presented.

Dean arched an eyebrow, "Oh yeah, you were real cut up about it."

Ed blanched, clearing his throat before he pressed himself further against the wall, feeling safer with the drywall against his back so as to limit the access of ghostly hands.

"We ready to go?" Dean asked, looking up at Sam and Jo who both nodded in agreement as they stood around the room and waited for the spirit to make further contact.

After several seconds, Sam paused, looking across at his brother who seemed equally confused with their current situation, "Uh, Dean… isn't this usually the part where something jumps out and tries to kill us?!"

Dean nodded, just as perturbed as his sibling as to why the ghost was apparently now not trying to make its presence known, "Pretty much."

Jo looked momentarily thoughtful, and she stooped to retrieve an old teddy bear from the floor that was perhaps a part of the hospital's tragic history, "Maybe it's afraid of us?"

Sam shrugged, "Since when has a spirit been afraid of us?"

Jo met his disbelievingly gaze and cocked her head as she held up the stuffed bear as if to prove her point, "It might be if it's a kid. Plenty of children died here, right? Who says it's not one of them?"

"Any reports of a kid rattling chains in the joint?" Dean inquired, his attention on Sam, who reached into his own duffel bag and began rifling through with his flashlight in hand for the bundle of papers pertaining to Old Mount View.

"Just give me a minute, Dean," Sam griped, his tone bearing an undercurrent of irritation as he searched almost blindly for the material he required.

"Uhm, excuse me?" Ed stammered, shifting in his position on the ground.

"This better be good," Dean countered, his gaze swinging round to the younger man, who squirmed under the unwelcome attention.

"There… well, I remember reading a couple of accounts… there's supposed to be a little kid that wanders the building," stuttered Ed, his camera pointed at Dean in an instant.

Appearing to ignore the presence of the machine for a moment, Dean demanded, "Any idea what it wants?"

Ed swallowed hard, his gaze ticking from Sam to Dean and then finally to Jo, who waited expectantly.

Ed seemed to pale, shrugging almost apologetically.

"His Mommy."

As all eyes in the room came to rest upon her, Jo let out a sigh, "Awesome."

Ed chuckled, diverting his gaze to the ground as he sniggered, "Hey Dean, I guess that makes you a ghost baby-daddy, huh?"

Dean didn't miss a beat, "There are two places I'm thinking I can shove that lens cap…"

"Unnecessary," Ed swallowed hard, miming a zipping motion across his lips that prompted a satisfied nod of approval from the older Winchester.

Jo planted her hand on her hip and stared around the room in apparent confusion, "Wait a minute, wasn't Derek right there?"

Dean and Sam sighed in stereo, and Sam shook his head as the annoyance of having the Ghostfacers and their crew hanging on their proverbial coat tails became even more apparent. They weren't going to get anywhere whilst having to baby sit Ed and his buddies.

"Great," Sam muttered, swinging his shotgun onto his shoulder as he stomped forward and headed toward the door, "I'll go look for Whoopi, you guys…"

He froze in the doorway, and all eyes turned to the corner of the room as the air began to hum and buzz with activity, and Ed all but climbed the walls trying to escape from his unfortunate position beside the forming apparition.

From out of the darkness, the outline of a child became apparent, and as the ghost materialised, it wasn't difficult to make out his light blonde hair and dark blue eyes. The child looked around the room, gazing up at each of the hunters almost as fearfully as Ed was currently regarding the entity itself.

"It's a… It's… Oh boy, it's…" Ed babbled, trying and failing to hold his camera steady as his hands shook violently and he found his breath coming in short, sharp starts.

The little boy finally peered across at Jo, and slowly an uncertain smile began to form on his pale, blood stained face. He reached a small hand out toward her, watching with obvious trepidation as the woman's hand was suddenly grabbed by the man beside her. But the little boy carried on undeterred, trying not to show his fear to the humans he was now used to finding wandering through his home. After nearly a century of searching, he wondered if he had finally found the mother who had left him on the steps of the hospital some ninety years before, when she had desperately tried to find help for her fever stricken child.

"Are you my Mommy?"

Before she could answer, the door to the room slammed shut, sealing Dean, Jo, Ed and the spirit inside.

**x-x-x**

Jimmy had attempted to lead their hunting party down the eerie corridor, but his macho, protective display had not lasted long as Dani had fought her way to the front of the group. She stormed several steps ahead of her partner and the trembling man who trailed behind them, her shotgun slung haphazardly over her shoulder and a scowl on her face.

"Dani, wait up, would you?" Jimmy finally called out, reaching forwards and gripping Dani's elbow. She shoved him off almost as soon as his fingers made contact with her cool skin.

"I'm sensing a little tension in this particular romance," Harry whispered, turning the camera around so that the lens pointed at his own face, "this is why ghost hunting and romance never mix, people. The life of a Ghostfacer should be a solitary one; one consumed by the need to hunt and to…"

"Would you stop yammering back there?" Jimmy yelled, glaring at Harry with unbridled fury.

Harry nodded obediently, hurriedly turning the camera back towards the two hunters, who were staring at each other with a kind of frightening hostility that made Harry almost afraid to breathe in their presence.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Jimmy demanded, his attention now fully on Dani, who seemed to be ignoring the insistent chirping from the EMF metre that was looped over her belt. "What did I do wrong this time?"

Dani narrowed her eyes and shot him a decidedly caustic glare, "Would you just shut the hell up for once?! We've got a ghost to find, and I got no intention of giving Spielberg Jnr. here a show."

Jimmy marched on ahead, turning around once to yell in frustration at his girlfriend, "Fine. Have it your way Dani. When this hunt is through, we're done… and for good this time. I ain't playing your games no more."

The brunette paused, shaking her head, her tone withering and decidedly mocking, "Oh, would you listen to yourself?! Maybe if you grew a pair and quit acting like some whiny bitch, I…"

"Um, guys?" Harry interjected, smiling tightly as he gestured to the room around them and the whirring of the EMF, "can you do this after we vanquish the scary, malevolent entities?! Or, you know… after _you've_ vanquished them?" He shrank back, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

"The dweeb has a point," Dani spat, releasing the safety catch from her shotgun as she arched an eyebrow at her soon to be ex-boyfriend that defied him to argue with her.

"Fine," Jimmy nodded, about to reply when his gaze was drawn behind him to where Harry was staring, his mouth dropped open in an 'o' as he gasped for air and pointed to the space behind the hunter.

Jimmy turned slowly, wincing as he did so, finding himself almost nose to nose with a petite blonde, her ashen face tear streaked, as one hand rested around the deep red ligature mark around her neck. A crisp white nurse's cap adorned her head, and she was dressed in an old fashioned uniform that placed her as perhaps one of the many medical personnel who had once worked at the hospital in the middle of the last century.

"He's coming!" she whispered, her tone somewhere between warning and sinister, and her attention seemed especially focused on Dani, who aimed her shotgun at the entity's chest without a second thought.

Raising her right hand, the ghost effortlessly threw the stunned hunter against the wall, shaking her head at her as if chastising a child. Jimmy aimed his gun, but on instinct stopped dead in his tracks, as the ghost serenely pressed her finger to her lips, and then vanished into thin air.

**x-x-x**

The sound of Sam throwing his body against the door repeatedly assaulted Jo's eardrums, along with the sound of Ed chanting the Lord's prayer at speed under his breath.

"Mommy?" the ethereal child queried, his head cocked to one side. He took a step towards Jo, spluttering and coughing a little. His hand drifted to his mouth, and when he lowered it to his side again, Jo could see that the skin and his lips were stained crimson with his own blood. Her heart sped up a little, and Jo shot a glance at Dean, who had not moved from her side.

"Are you my Mommy?" the boy repeated, this time more urgently.

"Thy kingdom come…" Ed all but sobbed, still clinging onto his camera, which was pointed in the spirit's general direction.

"Dean? Jo? Are you guys ok?" yelled Sam, his voice desperate and uncertain as he renewed his attack on the solid wood door, which held fast and refused to yield even an inch.

Jo stuttered, unsure of what her response should be and if playing along would really be a fruitful approach to take with a possibly vengeful spirit.

"No… No sweetie, I'm not," she smiled weakly, feeling a pang of sadness for the ghost child as he bowed his head and the smile instantly faded from his lips.

"Oh," he said quietly, obviously crestfallen by her reply, but as he raised his head, he stared up at Jo as if almost looking through her, before reaching out a hand again.

"Yeah, she can't come with you, buddy," Dean stepped forward, smiling in genuine sympathy at the spirit, as he found himself increasingly unwilling to use force against what appeared to be a benevolent entity. The ghost showed no signs of aggression or hostility, and he and Jo were in silent agreement that no force was necessary.

"What? Are you just going to leave this thing here?" Ed demanded askance, ducking his head and repeating 'sorry' under his breath as the ghostly child turned it's gaze upon him.

Dean rested his hand on the shotgun, watching uneasily as the sprit stared at Ed, although his expression was more one of confusion than anger – a sentiment Dean easily understood where the Ghostfacers were concerned.

The image of the little boy suddenly flickered, and when he turned back to the trio, his face was stricken with fear. He darted toward Dean and Jo, and ran behind the blonde hunter. As he hid behind her legs, he disappeared from view, leaving only a whispered warning in his absence.

"He's coming!"

The door lock let out a soft click, and then slowly the door swung open, revealing Sam on the threshold, poised to ram his shoulder into the solid oak.

Ed let out a sigh, and Dean turned just in time to see the man sink to the floor in a dead faint.

**x-x-x**

"Crap… oh crap… oh holy crap… oh holy mother of crap on a…"

"Would you shut your mouth?" Jimmy shouted, wheeling round and jabbing a finger at Harry, who stood immediately behind the hunter, clutching his camera in both hands and shaking visibly.

Harry meekly nodded, falling silent as Jimmy turned back to Dani, who gazed up at him somewhat groggily from her position on the floor where she had struck the wall and then fallen.

"You ok?" he checked, his tone soft and concern etched across his features. He reached out a hand to the female hunter, hauling her to her feet with a genuine tenderness that Harry was adamant to catch on camera.

Dani allowed him to help her to her feet, before she swatted him away and turned her head when he tried to examine her cheek, where a small cut was bleeding down her jaw.

"I'm fine," she snapped, her eyes blazing with fury, perhaps half out of embarrassment. But Jimmy continued, producing an old cloth handkerchief from his pocket which he tried to press to the wound.

"I told you, I'm fine!" she yelled, slapping his hand away as she hoisted her gun on her shoulder and stormed toward the door.

"Next time we see that pasty faced little bitch, her ass is toast!" she glowered, her heels pounding the floor as she headed out of the room and away from her colleague.

Jimmy stared down at his boots, managing a sad chuckle that instantly made Harry feel sympathy for the hunter.

"That was way harsh, man," Harry said quietly, planting his hand gingerly on the bigger man's shoulder in a silent show of solidarity.

Jimmy simply nodded, blinking furiously as Harry thought he saw a faint glimmer of moisture in the hunter's eyes, "Yeah, well you just keep your opinions to yourself."

Harry carried on undeterred, now suddenly consumed by memories of his own ill-fated love affair, none of which Jimmy was in the least bit interested to hear. The hunter gathered up their equipment from the floor, ignoring Harry as he continued on.

"It's just the pressure of the job, dude. High-stress occupations are never easy on relationships. You, me, Ed, those two genetic freaks in there… we're cut from the same lonely, mysterious, yet heroic cloth, destined to be single forever, lone wolves… moving through the night like the apparitions we hunt, always alone, but driven by a…a…"

Harry stopped suddenly as he became aware he was now alone in the room, and with a nervous gulp, he all but ran from the office and tried desperately to catch up with Jimmy's retreating form.

**x-x-x**

"We need to find a way out of here… like yesterday," Dean stated as the trio of hunters and the solitary Ghostfacer trudged through the hallway that appeared to have no end. They had yet to pass a single 'exit' sign, and Dean had begun to wonder if the building itself was playing with them. There was not so much as a fire escape, although Dean recalled from the plans of the building he had viewed before the hunt that there were several alone on the second floor.

"Should we try a window?" suggested Jo, glancing at Sam and Dean for confirmation. The brothers shrugged, and Jo slid the crowbar out from her backpack once again before drawing it back and jamming it into the corner of the nearest window large enough to allow an escape through.

Jo turned her head away as the glass shattered obligingly, however, before the broken shards had even begun to drop away from the edge of the frame, they melded back together until all evidence of the pane ever having been broken had faded away.

"So we're not escaping out a window then," said Ed nervously, shaking his head in disbelief at the sight he had just witnessed.

Sam's body tensed as, from the distance, the sound of low but vehement bickering began to move steadily closer to them.

"Incoming," he murmured, glancing at Dean, who shifted his shotgun into his right hand.

"Spirit?" Dean checked, arching an eyebrow as Sam shook his head, his smile sarcastic.

"You wish, dude," replied Sam, clapping Dean on the shoulder and letting out a hearty sigh.

"When we get out of here, Nabley is dead," Dean growled, to which Sam gave another, definite nod, his eyes already filled with murderous intent as he imagined the long, painful list of things he would love to do to Jeff Nabley should he ever get his hands on him.

Jo winced as she heard the unmistakable squabbling and sniping of Jimmy and Dani headed in their direction, and she pressed a hand to her forehead as she felt a migraine brewing. She suddenly felt bad for Sam, having been hunting with a couple for over a year now, and she wondered if he found the experience as infuriating and trying with her and Dean.

Dean finished giving the room another more thorough sweep, irritated to find that his initial analysis had been correct – they weren't breaking out of the building through any traditional route.

Watching the door to alert him to their fast approaching colleagues, Dean stole a moment to check in with Jo.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, mirroring the small smile she quickly rewarded him with.

Jo bobbed her head and covered the hand Dean had tenderly placed against her cheek with her own, "Takes more than a touchy feely ghost to freak me out, Dean. Unless it's the touchy feely ghost of an old serial killer. That I'm a lot less okay with."

He nodded, quickly pressing a kiss to her forehead in the seconds before Dani and her sullen faced boyfriend came storming into the room, faces both like thunder.

Ed skirted around Dean and Jo, dropping his camera from his eye line as he smiled at them in an unnervingly sentimental manner that made Dean instantly uncomfortable.

"As prickly as that outer exterior of yours is, Dean, you guys are totally adorable… I'm thinking this could be like the romance of the season. It'll be like RPatz and KStew… the fans go nuts over all of this gushy crap. Can we try to amp this up a notch though? I'm not saying we need to go with the whole 'making out in a store closet' thing, but a little lip action here and there couldn't hurt. The ratings are gonna go through the roof!"

"You're gonna go through the roof in a second, poindexter," Dani threatened, slapping Ed across the back of his skull as she brushed past him and planted herself in front of Dean and Jo. "So, we found a spook."

"So did we," Jo replied, her chin tilted almost defiantly at the other woman, who she was not ashamed to admit was irritating her to her very core.

"Uh-huh, well, after I got thrown clear across the room…" Dani began.

"Shame," Dean interjected, his smile an obvious pantomime of sympathy.

Dani ignored the interruption and continued, "Nurse Jackie had a nice little warning for us…"

" 'He's coming', by any chance?" asked Sam, stepping towards the other hunter, who glowered at him even as she nodded.

"Ours too," said Dean, his features drawn together by worry now as he forced his hostility towards the other hunters beneath the surface. "Do you guys have any idea what that means?"

As the two hunters ruefully shook their heads, Dean shot a querying look at Sam.

"There were a lot of stories on record," Sam began, his gaze wandering the group but never lingering on one face for more than a few seconds, "ghost kid, a couple of World War II soldiers who died from their injuries, a nurse who committed suicide because her affair with a married doctor was discovered, a janitor who fell out an open window when he was cleaning it, a couple of mental patients who…"

"Ok, ok, we get the picture," Jimmy cut in, chagrined not to have done his research thoroughly enough, as well as to find himself being educated by the youngest Winchester brother. There was a reason that he had largely avoided moving in the same hunting circles as Sam, Dean and their father, and it was largely a hefty dose of jealousy that Jimmy would rather die than admit to. The Winchesters were infamous for many things, not all of them positive, and yet Jimmy could not help himself from being almost green with envy at the selection of monsters, ghouls, and upper level demons they had bagged. Jimmy had yet to take on his first apocalypse, and at last count rumours had the Winchesters on their seventh or eighth.

Jo was uncharacteristically silent, quickly trying to think over the folder of information she had managed to skim before their movie night had become an altogether different source of entertainment. Perhaps a little more self-control may be called for in future. Jo smiled absently – or maybe not.

"Okay wait Sam, wasn't there a story about an old school teacher or principal or something? There was a creepy ass picture of some guy with a walking cane?"

Sam blew out an unsteady breath, nodding as he too recalled having seen that story, "Uh, yeah… Some dude in the 1950's, I think. Wait a second." He began to search through his bag, hurriedly flicking through papers and print outs he had compiled on the building.

"And what exactly would a school teacher be doing in a place like this?" Dani asked, her tone challenging.

Ed sprang into life, happy to be of some use, and exhibit his own degree of knowledge, however small that might be. "Oh, well TB sanitoriums usually had pretty long-term patients, and some of those were kids. Then of course you had the children of the adult patients, so they had school buildings or at least a school room in most of the hospitals… it got pretty crowded in these joints during the first half of the last century."

Harry beamed at his colleague with pride, and the two men shared a brief high-five before once again taking their position at the bottom of the team's pecking order.

"Fascinating," Dani deadpanned.

"Hey, wasn't there another one of these mooks?" Jimmy demanded, suddenly looking around the room in vague concern as he realised that their number was down somewhat.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, faintly embarrassed to realise that they had pretty much forgotten about Derek and the fact that he had strayed from the rest of the flock.

"Derek!" Harry exclaimed, as if only just realising the absence of his own team member. Dean was hardly surprised, however.

"Ok, Jimmy, why don't you and Dani take Ed and go look for…" Dean began, blinking in surprise as Jimmy and Dani suddenly both objected in simultaneous uproar.

"Hey, I don't take orders from you, Winchester," Jimmy said pointedly, looking to Dani for support. However, she turned her head away from her partner, her anger still fresh in her mind, and directed her glare at Dean instead.

"I'm not going anywhere with him," she spat, hooking her thumb in Jimmy's direction without so much as glancing at him.

Dean, Jo and Sam exchanged surprised looks, whilst Jimmy crossed his arms and glared at his partner come girlfriend through narrowed eyes. His lips were pinched into a sour frown, but Dani kept her back carefully to him.

"I don't know what your problem is, honey," Jimmy began, seizing Dani's arm and spinning her around to face him, although his grip was somewhat slack, "and I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to have done this time, but I'm tired of the attitude."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm just tired of you," Dani snarled, her nostrils flaring as she whirled around finally to face the other hunter, who merely stared at her, crestfallen. "Six months with you is enough to have any hunter begging for the final dirt nap."

"Nobody's making you stay," Jimmy retorted, although his cheeks had reddened in embarrassment and he shifted from one foot to the other, deliberately refusing to meet the gaze of anyone in the room. The rest of the team, hunters and Ghostfacers alike, kept their eyes trained low to the ground, uncertain where to look and reluctant to get in the midst of the brewing storm.

Sam bit the proverbial bullet, "Alright, Jimmy, you and I can go look for Derek. You guys can see what you can find on this guy!" he suggested, handing Jo the piece of paper that detailed the life and death of one Charles Corrigan, former teacher at the Old Mount View Sanitorium, before he had met with a grizzly death at the bottom of the hospital's imposing main staircase in 1953.

Dean scanned the photo, noting with disdain the severe, cold, and altogether malevolent look the man had possessed in life. He highly doubted that had changed much in death. Jo peered down at the photograph, which showed Mr. Corrigan standing with his charges by the blackboard of their classroom. Tapping her finger gently against the face of one of the assembled children, Jo glanced up at her boyfriend, "That kid look familiar?"

Dean sighed in realisation, wondering just what untold cruelties the man had inflicted on the children who had been vested in his care. He was beginning to understand just why the residual ghosts in the building would be afraid of the man's spirit. It seemed that even from beyond the grave Charles Corrigan was attempting to control them.

"Says here the guy was some uptight religious nut, a fan of the old 'spare the rod, spoil the child' crap," he read aloud, choosing to paraphrase the legend of the haunting for the assembled hunters.

"It say where this dude's buried?" Jimmy asked, now choosing to avoid even attempting eye contact with his girlfriend and instead focusing his attention on the hunt at hand.

"The cemetery in town," Dean supplied, happy to at least have some sort of a plan formulating in his mind, no matter how challenging the logistics might currently be.

"Great, now all we gotta do is get the hell out of here to gank the old guy," Jimmy said flatly, re-checking his shotgun was loaded as he and Sam made their way over toward the door.

"Alright, you guys go find Derek, we'll head to the school room and we'll meet you there in fifteen minutes. Sammy, don't take any chances okay? We don't know what we're dealing with yet." Dean directed, receiving a curt nod from Jimmy and a smile of reassurance from Sam before the pair disappeared out of the door and into the hallway.

"Hey, wait up!" Ed called, speeding after the two hunters, who were already half way down the corridor by the time the man had gathered his camera and bag.

"Any idea where the school room might be, hot stuff?" Dani pressed, leaning towards Dean who was pouring over a scaled down map of the building that had been concealed in his duffel.

Dean shot the woman a pointed look, and Jo let out a snort of derision before beginning to heave her bag back up onto her shoulder. She refrained from comment about Dani's proximity to her boyfriend, even as the woman's hand none too casually brushed against the back of Dean's as she made a further move towards the map he held. Jo knew that the woman was likely attempting to provoke a response from her, and also perhaps attempting to get back at Jimmy in the bargain, and she refused to be baited in such a way. She was secure in the knowledge after over a year together that Dean had eyes only for her, and no two-bit, trampy Angelina Jolie wannabe was about to make her feel otherwise.

Dean shuffled to the side, alarmed by the woman's predatory presence suddenly in his personal space.

"We need to head up to the top floor, east wing," Dean said, beginning to fold the map back down before shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. "I saw a stairwell back along the hallway. Should be no more than two storeys up."

"So long as we can make it without Slimer showing up to party," Dani replied, gazing up at Dean from behind thick lashes. "Better stay close."

Harry stood watching in open mouthed wonder, his camera raised to his eyeline as he filmed every last moment of the sultry exchange that was positively brimming with sexual tension.

Jo rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she gestured toward the door, "Lead the way, Princess."

Dani ignored her barb, and simply sauntered out into the hallway with Harry hot on her heels, eager to catch further footage of her seductive efforts.

"Maybe we should all go on a double-date after this?!" Jo suggested brightly, her words tinged with a decidedly sardonic tone, "she seems super fun."

Dean chuckled, but his features drew into a frown as he continued, "Jo, you know that I would never…"

Jo thwacked him on the arm, scoffing at the underlying suggestion. Despite Dean's illustrious dating past, and reputation as something of a womaniser, Jo remained unconcerned. "Yeah, I know, Dean-o."

His expression visibly brightened until he recalled the details of their current situation, and he and Jo picked up their pace in order to catch up with Dani and Harry, the latter of whom was talking into a hand held voice recorder, apparently bating the spirits to communicate with him.

"You hear that?" Dani suddenly stopped in her tracks, picking over the remains of an old wheelchair as the group came to a stop, and their three flashlights swept the hallway. The sound appeared to be coming from up ahead; a rhythmic pattern of what appeared to be slow footfalls and measured tapping.

Jo narrowed her eyes, a sinking realisation washing over her as she was able to easily identify the noise. It sounded suspiciously like someone walking with a stick, and there were no prizes for guessing who the perpetrator of the disturbance was likely to be.

The EMF metre spiked noisily, and Jo blew out a breath, which immediately formed a thick, white cloud in front of her face.

**x-x-x**

Derek lumbered through the building, weeping loudly and openly. He clutched his cell phone in his hand, stabbing at buttons at random intervals in an attempt to conjure some remnants of a signal. He had no idea who he would call, since the 'Ghostbusters' already seemed to be on the case, but he was thinking of starting with the local county sheriff department and perhaps working his way through to a priest for good measure.

"Stupid agent… stupid gig… stupid psychic medium crap…" Derek wailed, clutching at the dusty wall as he rounded the corner into another corridor that looked hopelessly identical to the last. Sobbing, Derek pressed his back against the wall and allowed his head to drop into his one free hand. He paused only a moment though, hearing the wind whistle eerily through the building, almost as though it was calling his name, mocking him.

Derek stumbled into the nearest available room, which had seemingly been abandoned without ever having first been cleared out. The tables dotted about were still adorned with various dusty craft supplies, and a half constructed wicker basket sat proudly in the centre of one. Realising that he had likely come upon the art room, Derek searched about in the darkness for a suitable cupboard to conceal himself in until dawn broke and he could once again see his nose in front of his face.

His fingers latched onto the handle of a tall cupboard, and Derek wasted no time in yanking the door open and spilling inside. His back pressed against the back panel of the closet, and Derek's noisy breathing began to slow somewhat as the relative security of his hiding place calmed him. It was, however, as his own breathing returned to normal, that Derek realised that the raspy breaths filling the cupboard were not his own.

Derek's bottom lip trembled, and he slowly, reluctantly, turned his head to the right.

The old woman's mouth dropped open and her eyes, both half blinded by cataracts, widened as she stared at him. Crimson blood dribbled over her bottom lip and down her gnarled old chin, and Derek found himself too terrified to scream as she reached for him with withered fingers.

"Help… me…" she choked out, her wispy, white hair billowing about her shoulders in the breeze that sprang to life from nowhere, "please… help… me…"

Finally, Derek's hysteria bubbled up from his throat, and he let out a bloodcurdling howl. His fingers scrabbled at the inner latch of the cupboard, a couple of his fingernails snapping off as he fought to escape the grotesque spirit who quite literally had him cornered.

"Help… me…" the woman pleaded, coughing and spluttering, and sending droplets of blood splashing across Derek's pale face.

"Leave me alone!" he cried, his sobs growing louder as he found himself unable to escape.

The hag fell silent, her arms dropping to her sides, and her fingers twitching around the fabric of the stained white hospital gown she wore. Finally, she cocked her head at Derek, who trembled unashamedly from head to toe.

Her voice was an ominous hiss as she stated, "He's here…"

In the next instant, the closet door flew open, tugged hard from the outside by an as of yet unseen force. Derek let out the most bloodcurdling scream of his life, as his body was sucked out of the cupboard, and the door slammed shut behind.

**x-x-x**

Staring in confusion around the debris strewn hallway, the hunters glanced at each other uncertainly, but it was Harry who broke the silence first.

"It's stopped," he laughed nervously, clearly optimistic that the danger had momentarily passed, "does that mean it's gone?"

Dean shook his head, and he and the two women took a guarded step forward, slowly beginning to advance down the hallway again.

"But it's stopped, right?" Harry repeated brightly, blinking as Jo made a shushing motion with her finger to her lips, and nodded down toward the far end of the hallway, where a small red orb of light was hovering ominously in the darkness.

Harry's hands trembled as he fought for purchase on his camera, and his breathing became shallow as he too began to take small steps forward in the direction of the light anomaly.

"I don't like this," Jo voiced all their concerns, and her hair began to whip against her face as a howling wind blew down the halls. Her cheeks stung with the icy air that assaulted them in an attempt to halt their progression.

Suddenly, and seemingly from the very depths of the growling wind, a deep, ominous voice boomed, its words and intent shockingly clear.

"_Get out_!"

The wind built up pressure, and the light swelled until it was an enormous glowing orb the size of a manhole cover. Finally, it seemed to almost explode, and the scarlet light filled the hallway, pouring down the corridor towards the four people who stood watching in wonderment. As the light touched the sides of the walls, the paintwork burnt and blackened as though it was flames rather than beams of light that licked at it.

"Get down!" Dean yelled, as inch after inch of wall was rendered charred and bubbling. Jo's eyes widened, and she grabbed hold of Harry's collar, yanking him backwards and into the open doorway of the bedroom at her side.

Dean did likewise, seizing Dani's arm as she appeared frozen in shock, and throwing her off balance as he all but dragged her into the janitor's closet on his right, and kicked the door shut with his foot. The sound of the wood cracking and groaning alerted Dean to the fact that the light had indeed passed them by, inflicting its strange effects upon the oak as it had done on the plaster. He shuddered to think what would happen should the crimson beams have touched their skin.

Dani panted noisily, suddenly hauled back into awareness as her shock dissipated. She stared at Dean, her bottom lip quivering, and then she threw herself into his arms, her embrace almost suffocating.

"Thank you," she breathed, her tone raspy as though she were on the verge of relieved tears. Dean swallowed hard, clearly uncomfortable with the woman's proximity, and he patted her somewhat half-heartedly on the back.

"It's uh… It's okay," he said gruffly, clearing his throat as he tried to pry her off of him, and unloop her arms from around his waist.

But Dani would not release him from her grasp, and a strangled yelp left Dean's lips as her hand unclenched from the back of his jacket and unceremoniously landed on his crotch.

"Hey, hey, lady… Keep your hands to yourself, huh?" Dean scrambled to remove himself from her clutches, knocking over an old broom and half an already dilapidated shelf in the process.

"Oh come on, Dean," she cooed, sighing in frustration as she found her advances continually swatted away, "you can't deny there's an attraction between us, I've seen how you look at me…"

"You're crazy," Dean protested, holding up his hands as he finally managed to extricate himself from her arms, but found himself all but backed into a corner – literally.

Dean stared longingly at the door, wondering if it were wise to escape out into the relative safety of the murderous ghost and flame filled hall, but the crackling and hissing he heard as the paint peeled and melted told him it probably wasn't an option unless he wanted to add third degree burns to his now escalating list of problems.

"Your girlfriend never has to know," she whispered, her lips now dangerously close to his ear, "you and I can work out a little of that adrenalin I know is coursing through your veins right now, and she never has to find out."

She traced a finger down his chest, suddenly looping her leg around his hips and doing her best to grind against him in a clearly wanton fashion.

"Will you quit it?!" Dean yelled, pushing her backwards and hoping his angry glare would be enough to cool her libido, "you wanna get back at Jimmy, fine, but I'm not about to help you out with that, so uh… so you're just gonna have to get back at him by yourself, okay sister?" he spat, suddenly thinking over his choice of words and how they might be implied.

Dani chuckled, "Is that what you like, Dean? You wanna watch?"

"Oh God no!" Dean protested, his eyes widening in horrified frustration, "can we just concentrate on the evil ghost out there?"

With a smirk playing across her lips, Dani closed the distance between them in two short steps until her body was pressed flush against Dean's. He seized her shoulders but before he could begin to push her away, she fastened her mouth across his own with lightning speed, ignoring the strangled squeaks of protest that Dean released as he grappled with her. She was surprisingly strong and, before Dean could even hope to gain the upper hand, the closet door swung open, revealing Harry, his camera, and a very pissed off Jo. She cocked the barrel of her shotgun pointedly, and Dani fell back away from Dean, wiping her lips with the back of one hand.

Harry all but jumped up and down with excitement, a buoyant grin now blossoming rapidly on his face as the three hunters stared at each other and the tension in the air became thick enough to cut with a knife.

"The ratings are gonna soar!"

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you guys for the extra little surge in reviews after the last chapter. We really enjoy hearing your thoughts, and we hope this next chapter keeps you entertained for a while. We know, we're so mean.<strong>


	33. Chapter 33

_**Episode 11 – Part 3**_

'_**Them Bones'**_

_**x-x-x**_

"Jo, I can explain everything!" Dean held up his hands, grimacing as he wiped away the taste of cheap lip gloss that Dani had left in the wake of her attack.

The brunette stared between the couple, suddenly wondering as to the dynamics of the pair, and the status of their relationship. She and Jimmy had never been what she had viewed as serious, nor had she ever believed that they had the potential to become something even vaguely long term. She assumed this was the same for all hunters and that it went along with the lifestyle they chose to follow – apparently she had been wrong.

Jo's brown eyes blazed with a fury Dean had rarely seen before, and he was actually afraid of her response, not merely due to the shotgun in her hands, but the plethora of emotions that were currently playing across her face. He could do nothing more than guess as to her reaction.

Glaring at the other woman until her knuckles visibly whitened around the barrel of her gun, Jo took a series of slow, deep breaths before she turned swiftly and stormed away from the scene, her heels pounding against the floor.

"This is awesome!" Harry enthused, suddenly gasping as the camera was wrenched from his hands and Dean angrily slammed the offending item repeatedly into the wall until it broke apart into pieces.

"Hey! That's expensive equipment!" Harry whined, his mouth falling open in shock as he quickly found himself raised off his feet and pinned to the wall behind him. Dean appeared as though he were about to reply, but at the last second he released the man from his grasp and jogged after Jo, calling out to her as she advanced down toward where the entity had been, and hurriedly slung open the stairwell door.

"Jo, would you come back here?!" Dean called out desperately, only half caring that his yelling could very rapidly attract the attention of the spirit they were hoping to avoid.

"No!" Jo tossed back over her shoulder as she shone her flashlight up the stairwell and made quick work of two flights. Coming to a stop in front of the sign that signalled they were now at the fourth floor, Jo rounded on Dean and finally exploded.

"Jo!"

"Screw you, Dean Winchester!" she yelled, looking for all the world like she was fighting to stop herself from shoving him, which would have been a precarious move given the fact he already teetered at the top of the staircase.

"Jo, she threw herself on me… literally," Dean responded, his voice raised as he struggled to get Jo to hear him out. She tossed her head, her bottom lip curled in disgust and scorn.

"And you were powerless, right?" she mocked, her lip suddenly trembling as she fought back tears, which was not the response she had hoped would win out. Anger was powerful, people respected it, whereas Jo had learned the hard way throughout her life that sorrow and tears got you little else other than taken advantage of.

"I thought you knew me better than that, Harvelle," Dean whispered, seeming genuinely crestfallen that Jo had believed the admittedly compromising situation to be just that.

"I don't want to do this right now," she whispered, swiping at the tear that tripped her cheek with the back of her sleeve, and turning her head away both embarrassed and disgusted as Harry and Dani came into view behind Dean.

"Please Jo," Dean implored, his voice soft and coaxing. Jo refused to look at him, swallowing down the lump in her throat that threatened to allow the sobs she was containing to spill out.

"If we survive this, I'll deal with you later," Jo promised, dipping the nose of her shotgun in Dean's direction in a silent promise.

Dean shook his head, looking around him furtively as she stormed out of the stairwell and out into the fourth floor hallway.

"No, we're gonna deal with this now!"

Before Jo could protest, Dean had swung open the nearest door, and a sign labelling it as a linen closet clattered to the floor as he gently but firmly steered her in there. He slammed the door closed behind them and positioned himself in front of it.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing?" Jo spat, arching a blonde eyebrow as she added, "one closet not enough for you today?"

Dean ignored her and carried on despite the furious glares he was receiving, "In case you haven't noticed sweetheart, we're locked in a building with a murderous ghost who wants to hand us all our asses, so bearing in mind we may not actually get out of here alive, I'm not letting you leave this closet without you hear me out."

Jo avoided his gaze, but the fact she let her gun hang at her side gave him hope she intended to at least pretend to listen to his pleas of innocence. Because although it wasn't a state Dean had often found himself in before in the past, this time, he really was the innocent party, and he intended to prove as much.

Outside the closet, a crowd had slowly gathered as Sam and Jimmy, hearing the commotion from a floor up, had come running to assist their colleagues, only to find two of them loitering outside a closet door. Jimmy had quickly ascertained the reason for the furious argument now in action, and Dani's guilty demeanour did little to dampen his suspicions.

Sam leant against the wall, trying desperately not to listen in, and also waging his own personal war against Ed and Harry, the latter of whom had now seized the remaining camera and seemed intent on trying to film the love triangle unfolding.

"Do and die," Sam warned them, keeping a watch out on the hallway, especially the east wing, where he knew the schoolroom waited for them.

Ed pressed his ear to the door, sighing in frustration as only hushed whispers were audible.

Inside the closet, Dean paced the tiny floor space and shook his head at the enraged blonde before him as she refused to meet his gaze.

"Jo, do you honestly think I'd throw away what we have on someone like her?" he shrugged helplessly, "or on anyone!"

He licked his lips, struggling to find an eloquent way of properly communicating just how much she meant to him.

"You're everything, Jo. You're all I want. _This_ is all I want; you and me…" he came to stand in front of her and gently rested his hands on her shoulders. "And I know you know that, you're just too God-damn stubborn to admit it right now because you're mad at me."

"You bet your sweet ass I'm mad at you, Dean," Jo growled, her features drawn in fury as she finally levelled a glare at Dean that was icy enough to freeze flame. "At this point, I've driven a couple of county lines past mad, and I'm parked up somewhere between furious and wanting to shoot you in the balls myself."

Dean swallowed hard and, from the other side of the cupboard, Sam winced in brotherly sympathy, suddenly standing with his legs a little closer together.

"I… can understand that…" Dean gulped, his gaze imploring as he captured Jo's hands in his own and raised them to his chest, "but you have to know that I would never do that to you. I gave you my Mom's ring, Jo. We rebuilt the roadhouse from the ground up, together. We've been on and off the road for over a year now, and I haven't once given you the impression that I'm anything other than grateful to be here with you. I almost lost you back in Carthage. What makes you think I'd be dumb enough to risk that again?"

"Carthage?" Harry repeated in a whisper, looking to Sam for further information, but taking a step back as he received only a growl in response from the freakishly tall hunter.

Sam turned to Dani, who was busy examining the ground at her feet whilst attempting to avoid Jimmy's steely gaze.

"You're a total piece of work," Sam said, shaking his head at the woman.

Dani ignored him, but she made some effort to look ashamed of herself, which Sam saw as a minor degree of personal growth since their initial meeting some hours earlier.

Jo stood perfectly still, finally raising her head and blinking self-consciously as the tears that had gathered on her lower lashes escaped onto her cheeks. She closed her eyes as Dean brushed the pad of his thumb underneath her eye, catching her tears before their tracks marred her skin. She pulled away from him and he felt his heart physically ache.

"Jo?" he said softly, tenderly tilting her chin up until brown eyes met green, "listen to me, that Cupid chick last week? She told me that you and I were fated to be together, that… that she and her buddies had nothing to do with 'us'. You were made for me, Jo, this is how it's meant to be, and this is all I want; to be with you."

Seemingly relenting from her rage, Jo leant into his touch, allowing his palm to press tenderly against her cheek as he somewhat hesitantly drew her into his chest. Her hands slowly settled against him, her fingers grasping the fabric of his jacket as if she were equally as afraid of losing him.

His lips brushed her ear, and his warm breath against her skin made her shiver before the truth in his proceeding words had even had a chance to strike at her heart.

"I love you," he stated, curling his hand around the back of her neck and nuzzling her cheek affectionately, "and I know you know that too."

Jo nodded, and a small yet genuine smile tugged at her lips as her arms locked around his neck and she allowed him to pull her flush against him, "I do."

He pressed kisses into her hair and wrapped her tightly in his arms, "I've never given you a reason to doubt me, Jo, and I never will."

She hugged him that much harder in acknowledgment and, standing on tip-toes, she pressed her lips against his in order to kiss him until both of them were rendered breathless.

"So, any chance this could lead to angry make-up sex later?" he inquired, waggling his eyebrows in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Jo laughed, rolling her eyes as she remained content to nestle into his chest, "You had to go and ruin it, Winchester."

Dean winced, the traces of a smile still present on his face, "Step too far?"

"Uh-huh," she confirmed, suddenly looking around and realising the absurdity of their location.

"Shall we?" Dean pressed, gesturing to the closed doorway, from behind which several sets of scrabbling feet could be heard, all desperately attempting to clear a path for the couple before they tried to make an exit.

"Yeah," Jo replied, sniffing determinedly and making a final swipe at her cheeks in order to remove any last traces of the tears she had shed. Dean nodded, smoothing his palm down Jo's cheek one last time before he rested his hand on the doorknob and tugged it open.

He was met with Ed and Harry peering at them, both with tears sliding down their cheeks and watery smiles on their faces.

"Dean… that was… beautiful…" Harry choked out, still wielding the camera, which was directed firmly at Dean's face now.

Jo took a few steps forwards, drawing her level to Dani, who peered down at the shorter woman in an attempt to appear nonplussed by her attention. Jo glared at the other hunter, her fingers twitching around the barrel of her shotgun, although she made no move to raise it.

"Stay out of my way," Jo demanded, her eyes sweeping Dani one final time in evident disgust, before she turned on her heel and strode away.

"I can't believe you…" Jimmy muttered, shaking his head as he glanced momentarily at Dani, who simply shot him a smirk that only succeeded in wounding him further. Picking up his shotgun, Jimmy trailed after Jo, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he mumbled quietly to himself.

"Not that this little interval wasn't fantastic for the show and all…" Ed stated, smiling nervously, "but shouldn't we be trying to find a way out of here?"

"The geek has half a point," said Dani, her eyes on Dean once again, although this time there was nothing calculating behind her stare.

Dean walked past her without so much as looking in her direction, and he was careful to keep a gaping distance between them, as his anger toward the hunter was still bubbling vehemently below the surface. If she had managed to drive a wedge between him and Jo, Dean was pretty sure the forces of heaven itself would not be able to stop him from dispatching her slowly and painfully into the next world. Because in all of his existence, his relationship with Jo was the only good thing he had ever done, and Dean was not about to let anybody or anything ruin the life they had built together. The future now held so many possibilities that before had seemed ridiculous, and Jo was at the centre of all the plans he kept locked away in his heart.

"Jo?" Dean called after her, catching up with her in less than two strides, as the couple led the way toward the classroom with Ed and Harry dragging behind in a less than enthusiastic manner.

Dean winked at his girlfriend as they walked side by side, and the smile she rewarded him with soon calmed any residual fears he had that the misunderstanding had not been fully resolved.

At the appearance of another figure beside her, Jo glanced up to find Sam at her elbow, and the three hunters made their way toward the end of the long corridor with evident purpose.

"This is so cool!" Harry enthused, suddenly becoming caught up in the moment, despite the deep, unrelenting fear that had settled in the pit of his stomach.

"Are you getting this?" Ed demanded, slapping Harry's arm in order to correctly direct the camera. Harry glowered at his friend but adjusted the camera by several inches nonetheless. The three hunters cut a formidable picture as they strode down the corridor, their arms swinging at their sides and their weapons hung deliberately over their shoulders. In fact, the Ghostfacers watched in silent awe for several seconds before scuttling after them.

Dani sauntered at the rear of the group, masking any slight portion of shame she felt at her actions behind her usual bravado and an arrogant toss of her head. She arrived back with the others just as Jimmy was poised to break the lock on the room that was adorned with a faded sign that read 'schoolhouse'.

A chill ran through the air, and the hunters all shivered in unison, exchanging looks as they all silently wondered how the situation was about to go down.

"Ok, how do we play this?" Jimmy demanded, unable to stand the quiet that had fallen anymore. Shrugging, Dani continued to avoid his eyes, taking a step to her left to bring her directly behind Ed and separate herself further from her partner.

"If this dude's going to be anywhere, it'll be here," Sam said, pushing open the door and coughing instantly as he was met by a large cloud of dust that had been undisturbed for over forty years.

Hurriedly sweeping his flashlight across the room, Sam frowned as he saw the state of the floorboards, where large holes and rickety floor panels made it unsafe for the group to venture any further.

"That floor doesn't look like it'll hold," he stated, standing back for Dean to conduct a similar visual sweep of the room. Both hunters quickly arrived at the same conclusion.

"What a minute, what's that over there?" Jo directed the beam of her flashlight toward the corner of the room, where a long abandoned walking cane lay propped against the wall. Scrambling in his pocket for the scrunched up piece of paper, Dean produced the old photograph that he sought.

"The old guy's stick," Jimmy agreed, "we need to burn that piece of shit."

"You wanna walk across that floor and try it, honey, go right ahead!" Dani planted her hands on her hips, her attitude now fully back in force after a briefly guilty hiatus.

"I could do it," Jo stated, her tone confident as she glanced up at Dean. He guffawed in response, shaking his head.

"No way, no way are you…" he began, trailing off as Jo shot him an arch glare.

"I can do it," she reiterated, "I'm the lightest one here. The floor will probably hold if I tread carefully."

"Go for it," Dani muttered under her breath, crossing her arms and leaning back against the wall.

"Shut your mouth," Dean warned, pointing an index finger in the woman's direction that almost dared her to continue with her bitching.

"Jo, it's not safe, the slightest pressure and those boards could buckle," Sam said, his features clouded with worry as he regarded Jo, placing one hand on her elbow gently.

Jo sucked in a hesitant breath and then nodded, drawing away from Sam and coming to a standstill on the threshold of the doorway. She foraged in her jacket pocket for a moment, withdrawing her hand only when her fingers had closed around the spare clip from her handgun, which she had neglected to remove before the hunt began. The weapon in question was back in the trunk of the Impala, and so Jo knew that she would have no requirement for it during the course of the hunt, making her decision any easy one.

Pulling her arm back, Jo tossed the clip hard at the far wall of the school room, smiling to herself as it dropped down to the floor less than a metre away from Corrigan's stick. A cloud of dust billowed into the air and the boards creaked in protest but held.

Jo shot Dean a triumphant look, coupled with a reassuring smile as she said, "See. Safe as houses."

"Jo, no!" Dean all but pleaded, pulling her away from the door and lowering his voice so the others could not overhear, "I won't let you do this. It's suicide. And I should know, the gung-ho 'get your ass' kicked plans are usually mine."

"You got a better idea then I'm all ears, Dean," Jo sighed, her expression softening as she saw the deep concern etched across his features, "it's the only way we're all going to get out of here alive. I have to try."

Dean sighed, grudgingly realising Jo was right, and he cast a glance over his shoulder at the group before he quickly whispered in her ear and snatched a brief but urgent kiss, "Jo…"

"Tell me later," Jo shook her head, smiling up at him with both reassurance and promise, "after all that make-up sex!"

Dean consented to laugh, but his stomach churned with nerves, "I'll hold you to that, sweetheart."

Re-joining the group, Dani suddenly stepped forward, throwing down her bag and gun onto the ground as she peeled off her jacket and picked up a flashlight.

"If she's going, I'm going!"

"Really?" Jo demanded, swinging round to face the other woman with obvious annoyance, "you really want to do this?"

Jimmy chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement as he inquired, "This your version of a pissing contest, Dani?"

Ignoring the remark pointedly, Dani took her first tentative step into the room, keeping her back pressed against the wall.

"Just make sure you stick to the edge of the room," Sam directed, shaking his head as he watched the brunette begin inching towards the far end of the room, followed by Jo, who was treading lightly with an expression of sheer determination and concentration upon her face.

Dean, Sam and Jimmy watched from the edge of the doorway, Dean clutching the door frame as he peered after his girlfriend. He muttered continually under his breath, and Sam recognised the words as a quiet prayer. He shot his brother a brief but understanding smile, which Dean failed to return, his features stretched taught with worry instead.

"That's it, easy does it, baby," Jimmy called out, his own brows drawn together in worry as he watched Dani lead the way across the room. Both women paused, inhaling sharply, as a floorboard towards the centre of the room creaked before splintering and then falling through.

"Try not to get us both killed," Jo spat, arching a warning brow at the woman in front of her.

Before Dani could reply, a deep, rumbling growl filled the room, and Jo's head turned sharply just in time to see the apparition of Charles Corrigan materialise before them. His eyes glowed with malicious intent, and he stared at the two women only momentarily before the remaining glass panes of the windows blew in.

Jo brought her sleeve up to shield her face from the shards, and Dani let out a scream as a sliver of glass grazed her cheek.

Suddenly raising his gun, and reacting more due to panic than experience, Jimmy aimed at the grisly apparition and fired off two rounds. The vibrations caused the floorboards to groan in protest.

"Are you nuts?" Dean called out, quickly wrestling the shotgun from the hunter before turning back to watch Jo's progress with his heart pounding in his ears.

The ghost screamed in anger, reaching toward the cane which flew through the air and landed in his hand.

"Get out of my classroom!" he yelled, pointing at both women before a bolt of blue electricity shot from his fingers and sent them both tumbling to the ground.

Jo cringed as the floor sagged and creaked beneath her, and she glanced back at the doorway to find Sam forcibly holding Dean back. Ed and Harry had abandoned their filming and were instead watching the women's progress with similarly terrified expressions.

Reaching into her pocket, Jo grabbed a handful of salt, which she hastily scattered around herself in a circle that would at least protect her from the entity's powers.

"Jo, don't move!" Dean barked, his expression terrified as he watched the spirit flicker into being in front of the two women, his lips twisted into a fearful grimace.

"Insolence and lies…" Corrigan hissed, grinding his yellowed teeth together as he glared down at Dani, who was the closest of the two hunters to him.

"Jo… help me…" Dani screeched, her eyes wide with fear as she peered up at the spirit, utterly defenceless with the loss of all of her weapons. Jo chewed on her bottom lip, indecision filling her as she contemplated attempting to crawl across the floor to the other woman. The floorboards nearby continued to make less than encouraging noises, and whole chunks of wood dropped away to the floor below as the spirit's rage intensified and so too did the wind he had conjured.

"Thirty lashes… thirty lashes!" Corrigan howled, raising his stick high above his head and bringing it down sharply over Dani's body. Although the staff made no contact with her, there was an audible crack and the woman let out a scream of pain.

He raised the cane high up above his shoulder again and brought it down with renewed force on the woman's back. She screamed in agony, calling out to Jo and also to Jimmy, who she knew would never fail to rush to her aid. Although Dani had never been in love with her partner, she was certain that the same could not be said for him, and she was not above using that knowledge to her advantage when her own life depended upon it.

As if on cue, Jimmy dashed for the room, struggling against Dean and Sam, the former of whom had now realised that rushing in to 'help' the women would almost certainly result in their deaths.

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!" Jimmy called out as he thrashed and kicked, struggling against both Winchester brothers with considerable strength. "I've got to help her!"

"No, you set foot in there, you'll kill them both!" Dean shouted above his frantic cries, "there has to be another way."

All heads turned to Dani once again as the ghost continued his attack, and she called out repeatedly, this time focusing on Jo's better nature.

"Always gotta be the better God-damn person," Jo seethed under her breath, rolling her eyes at her own inherent moral compass as she carefully slid herself closer toward Dani and reached into her pocket for a handful of salt.

"Schools out, asshole!" Jo shouted, throwing the handful of salt in the ghost's face. He screamed in pain and his image began to flicker violently.

Dani scrambled to reach into her pocket and, before Jo could manage to stop her, she had removed a handgun filled with rock salt rounds, which she began firing at the entity. The floor trembled and shook, and before either woman knew what was happening, the boards beneath Jo gave way, sending her plummeting down to the lower level with a scream.

Corrigan finally blinked out of view just as the remaining floorboards splintered, and Dani threw up both arms as she tumbled down with them. She fell with a bloodcurdling screech, which came to an end shortly after the loud thud of her body making impact resounded throughout the building.

"No!" Dean yelled, his voice hoarse and his eyes alive with desperation. A cloud of dust and debris rose high into the air of the schoolroom, obscuring their views as they all crowded onto the threshold of the doorway and attempted to peer down into the gaping hole that had been created.

"Are… are they…" Ed stammered, his jaw slack with horror as he leaned forwards, only to be elbowed back by Jimmy, who was hopping from one foot to the other in his concern.

"If she's dead, your ass is mine, Winchester," Jimmy seethed, planting both hands in the centre of Dean's chest and shoving him hard back against the wall into the corridor.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Sam snarled, stepping between his brother and the other hunter as Jimmy clenched his fist in order to deliver a punch and Sam realised that Dean was far too shell shocked by Jo's unceremonious descent to defend himself.

"Uhm… ok, ok…" Harry interjected, running both hands through his hair as he attempted to think, "if we take a look at the map, we should be able to work out which room is beneath us. We can go down and get them."

Sam watched his brother's face closely. Dean stared in shock at the pile of dust and debris still swirling in the atmosphere, not even blinking.

"No, no. There isn't time," Dean said absently. It was not until Sam grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him gently that Dean seemed to regain his senses.

Before Sam had a chance to stop him, Dean had his shotgun aimed at the glowering figure of the ghost and was firing off round after round of rock salt, leaving the creature thrashing around in pain. The ghost disappeared from view and the stick dropped to the floor with a thud. Stepping precariously into the room, Dean peered down into the large hole left in the floor and at the various pipes and floorboards that dangled free from the break.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam shouted incredulously. Both Ghostfacers hid behind their hands and winced, unable to watch as the hunter edged slowly across the room. Straining to reach out, Dean finally grasped the cane, which he then threw over his shoulder like a javelin.

"Burn it!" he yelled grimly, before focusing his attention back on the devastated flooring.

"Is he going down there?" Ed hissed to Harry even as they stared at Dean with both disbelief and admiration, "he is! The crazy son of a bitch is going down there!"

"The networks are gonna lap this up," Harry enthused, propping the camera in his left hand as he zoomed in on Dean's face, and the sheer determination reflected in the set of his jaw.

"Jo?" he called, not awaiting a response as he crawled around to an exposed copper water pipe that was hanging down between the floors. Lowering himself onto his belly, Dean tossed his gun to Sam before reaching out for the pipe to use as a makeshift ladder in order to lower himself onto the floor below.

"See you down there, Sammy!"

Rolling his eyes, and realising that he had little alternative but to mirror the actions of his impetuous brother, Sam followed after Dean. He grunted with the effort of clinging on to a piece of exposed pipe, but he dropped deftly down to the floor below without so much as disturbing the piles of dust at his feet.

Pushing up his sleeves, Jimmy scrabbled across the broken floor and concentrated on following the Winchesters' lead, although he landed with a thump and a subsequent string of profanities.

Ed and Harry exchanged looks, their eyes wide and their hearts hammering in their respective chests.

"Should we…?" Harry began, gesturing with one thumb to the gaping hole in the centre of the room.

Ed hesitated, then sucked in a deep breath before he responded, "We'll uh… take the stairs!"

**x-x-x**

"Jo!" Dean hollered, cupping his hands around his eyes and squinting in the darkness in an attempt to make out the various shapes that loomed at him from around the room. From what Dean could discern at first glance, they had landed in a bedroom, where a number of metal bed frames devoid of mattresses were still dotted about the room, some upright and some overturned.

Scanning the room with his flashlight, Dean eventually found Jo collapsed in a pile of rubble. He was at her side in a matter of seconds.

"Jo?" he called out desperately, his heart almost stilling in his chest as he took in the sight of Jo lying motionless. With a trembling hand, Dean pressed his fingers to her neck, unprepared for the worst. He was relieved to find a strong, steady pulse, and he brushed her hair back from her face in an effort to gently rouse her. Very slowly Jo's eyes flickered open, and she winced as a jolt of pain struck at her left side, indicating to her almost instantly that she had damaged at least one rib in the fall.

"God, Jo. You scared the crap out of me, you know that?!" Dean exhaled in relief, helping her sit up as Sam arrived by his side, with his own concern for Jo evident in his expression.

"Son of a bitch, I think I cracked a rib," Jo hissed, clutching Dean and Sam's hands as they helped pull her into a standing position, and Dean carefully wrapped a protective arm around her waist. Jo leant her head on his shoulder and briefly sought comfort in his arms until her heartbeat had returned to a more normal rhythm.

"We get the cane?" she checked, taking a step and closing her eyes as the action sent pain rippling through her torso.

"Yeah, we got it," Sam confirmed, smiling at her as he hoisted the offending item up in his hand.

"Dani! Dani!" Jimmy yelled, finding the brunette hunter seeking shelter in a far corner, nursing an obviously injured ankle that was at the very least sprained.

"I'm ok, I'm fine," she growled, her teeth gritted against the pain of her injuries, which seemed fairly minor given the circumstances. Jimmy threw himself down at her side, laying his hand almost hesitantly on her shoulder. He was relieved when she did not pull away, but the distance was still there in her features and body language. This time, Jimmy feared he had lost her for good.

"I was worried about you," he murmured, stroking the tips of his fingers down her bare arm. Dani refrained from comment, instead sliding her arm underneath his shoulder so as to allow him to help her to her feet.

"Ok, let's light this puppy up," Dean said in determination, sliding his lighter out from his back pocket and flicking it open. The flame sprang to life almost instantly, and Dean wasted no time in touching it to the end of the stick that Sam held.

The wood caught light quickly, flames lapping hungrily at the thick cane, which Sam held onto until the fire threatened to begin licking at his fingers. He allowed it to fall to the floor then, standing watch over it as it burned in order to ensure that it did not take the rest of the building with it.

"Okay, so… let's test this theory out," Dean announced, tossing a broken chair leg at the nearest window. The glass shattered, only to reform moments later.

Releasing a string of expletives just in time for Ed and Harry to come skidding into the room, Dean and Sam stared helplessly around them.

"That didn't sound promising," Ed drawled, noting with building fear that all five hunters were looking decidedly worried. Their lack of confidence was definitely a warning sign that things were not going well.

"We need to find another way out," Jo stated, arching an eyebrow as Ed and Harry both gingerly approached her, Ed offering her a mimed hug.

"You're okay! Oh wow, you had us like… so worried," Harry began, laughing softly as he pumped his fist and announced to nobody in particular, "she's okay, it's all good."

He placed his palm over his heart and exhaled slowly, adding a nervous laugh as he and Ed both whistled for effect, "Scary moment."

"Um... thanks?" Jo replied, looking up at Dean who simply shook his head in an equal measure of confusion.

Ed scratched his head and then hooked his thumb in the direction of the hallway, "So, we need another way out. Well, what about the body chute?"

"Oh there's two words you really don't want to hear together in a sentence," Dean drawled, trying to ignore the bickering that once again had broken out between Jimmy and Dani as the latter tried to brush off the help of her partner.

"The body chute?" Jo repeated, her expression less than enthusiastic as she stared at Ed, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Oh yeah, uhm, places like this… sanatoriums that is… used to experience a lot of deaths," Ed explained, glancing around the room to ensure that they were still free of the company of Corrigan and any other spirits, "they were afraid that seeing so many bodies leaving would bring down morale of the other patients, set back recovery or prevent it altogether, and so some of them made a body chute."

"Think garbage chute for stiffs," Harry added, beaming as Ed nodded his approval at his partner's choice of words.

"And you want us to stroll down it?" Dani demanded, shaking her head askance at the duo, who merely nodded. "And I thought I was the one who hit my head."

Sam hesitated, glancing round at his fellow hunters before he voiced his own opinion on the matter, "Actually, it could be a solid plan. I mean, there's no way we can put these spirits to rest without bones, and those are outside the building…"

"Yeah we've done the math," Jimmy grumbled, looking thoroughly repulsed by the idea. Dean turned to Jo, touching her dirt smeared cheek tenderly.

"You think you can make that?" he checked, lifting her jacket in an attempt to examine her side, which she held protectively with one hand, half doubled over. Her eyes determined, Jo nodded.

"It won't be top of my list of funnest things I've done ever, but I can do it," she answered, frowning suddenly as her last expelled breath became a cloud of white smoke.

"Oh crap," Harry mumbled, clutching his camera tighter and shuffling closer to Ed.

The walls around them began to hum and shake, and Jo held on to Dean for support as the floorboards they were standing on started to jump and bevel.

"Holy shit, we're all gonna die!" Harry cried, closing his eyes as a sob escaped him.

"Which way to the tunnel?" Sam yelled, reaching out with ease and catching the rolled up map that Ed threw in his direction.

Quickly unfurling it, Sam scanned the building, taking less than a moment it seemed to process the route they needed to take, "Alright, we go out of here and then down to the basement. The tunnel entrance should be at the back of the old morgue."

"Swell," Dean smiled sardonically, leading Jo toward the doorway and the impending adventure of the body chute.

In their haste to retreat, Ed and Harry stumbled over an upturned bed frame, and it was as Jimmy illuminated the smashed up furniture at their feet that Harry made an unpalatable discovery.

"Oh my God, is that an arm?"

His eyes widened in terror, and Sam and Dean stared through the darkness toward where the body lay, pinned beneath an old metal bedframe with a pool of thick, gelatinous blood collected beneath it.

"From the looks of those threads, I'm guessing we just found Derek," Sam remarked with a grimace, "or… what's left of him anyway."

"Gross. This is so gross," Ed shuddered, following the others out of the room as fast as his shaking legs could carry him.

As they reached the hallway, the hunters searched fruitlessly for the old internal signs that might lead them toward the morgue. However, it appeared that all the signs had been removed, or at the very least were so heavily vandalised that reading them was impossible.

"Awesome," Dean sighed irritably, "now what?! You didn't happen to memorise the blue prints of this place, did you Sammy?"

"Afraid not," Sam smiled tightly, suddenly squinting to make out the blue orb of light that was heading toward them at speed.

"Incoming!" Jimmy called out, about to reach for his gun when Jo stopped him in his tracks with a hand on his forearm.

"Wait!" she called out, watching intently as the same little boy appeared to them with a pleading expression in place. He hooked a finger toward Jo and widened his eyes in a manner that implored her to follow.

"This way!" he insisted, "hurry, he's coming!"

Gripping Dean's elbow for support, Jo lead the group along the corridor, her teeth gritted against the pain that had wound itself around her ribcage.

Sam brought up the rear of the group, half walking, half jogging backwards with his shotgun raised in preparation to fire half a dozen rounds into anything that attempted to challenge them on their way to the morgue. The air remained icy and charged with electricity, but no spirits appeared for the moment, which made Sam decidedly more nervous than if he would have seen Corrigan charging down the corridor after them.

Ed and Harry trotted along in the midst of the group, Ed still clinging onto his camera for dear life, whilst Harry attempted to hurry Dani and Jimmy along. The two hunters were slow in their progress thanks to Dani's ankle, and Harry was growing more and more visibly irate the longer he was trapped behind them.

"Down the stairs," the child instructed, merely glancing towards the doorway at the end of the hallway, which then swung open.

"Oh man…" Jo groaned, letting out a small cry of pain as her foot touched the first step and the action jarred her injured rib.

Without waiting another moment, Dean gently lifted Jo into his arms and began to descend the stairs. He was careful not to touch her injured side, and ignored her protests as he moved with her quickly but carefully down each step.

"Dean, I can walk!" she argued, although she looped her arm around his neck and leant her head on his shoulder anyway.

"Humour me, Harvelle," Dean replied firmly, finding no great exertion in carrying her slim frame down the steps. Once they had reached the bottom, Dean set her back on her feet.

Jo smiled weakly, managing a brief whisper of 'thanks' before a commotion from the top of the staircase caused the two hunters to back hastily away from the bottom of the staircase.

The spirit of Charles Carrigan materialised in the centre of the stairs, blocking the route of escape for the others as he became more and more solid. After several seconds, he looked no different to the humans now furiously trying to flee from his clutches, except he was several, alarming shades paler. Ed and Harry let out high pitched screams that each had already planned on editing out at a later date.

Dean instantly turned and fired two rounds square into the ghost's chest, but although Corrigan shrieked in anger and pain, he showed no signs of retreating.

"Dean…" Sam called out warily, imploring his brother for help as the spirit reached out suddenly and seized Ed around the throat. The man let out a strangled cry, his eyes bulging in his head as Corrigan lifted his feet clear off the floor before tossing him at Dean and Jo. The hunters both let out simultaneous cries as Ed's body made contact with theirs, bringing the three of them down to the ground.

Harry whimpered as he found himself nose to nose with the ghost in his friend's absence, however, he closed his eyes tightly as soon as he felt the spirit's hand clamp around his shoulder. Corrigan tossed Harry after his partner with ease, flickering several times before materialising on the steps in front of Jimmy and Dani, both of whom were frozen in shock.

"Thirty lashes… thirty lashes…" Corrigan hissed, his face mere inches away from Dani's as he continued to glare at her, enraged by her previous escape. The female hunter swallowed hard, all her swagger absent as she realised that the spirit had singled her out, and would doubtlessly not rest until it had seen to her end.

"Screw you, you bastard," she snarled, tears leaking from her eyes as she glared at Corrigan, who reached towards her with a sinister smile. However, at the last moment, just as his fingertips sought to find purchase on the nape of her neck, Jimmy darted in front of his girlfriend and pushed her down the small flight of steps, safe into the waiting arms of Ed, who had righted himself only moments before.

With what seemed like no more than a flick of its wrist, the ghost threw Jimmy like a rag doll against the wall, and his body made a sickening thud as it hit the ground.

Seizing the opportunity, Sam and Dean both fired further rounds at the spirit until he recoiled with an unearthly shriek, before spinning out of the stairwell like a furious whirlwind. The door swung to and fro in his wake, and the exit sign above it clattered from its mount.

Dani stared open mouthed at Jimmy's lifeless body. Jo and Harry were hunkered by his side, repeatedly trying to rouse him but to no apparent avail. Pressing her fingers against Jimmy's neck, Jo peered up at the other hunters and gravely shook her head.

"What?" Dani yelled, pushing Ed off her as she ran over to where Jimmy lay prostrate on the ground, a thin trickle of blood now ebbing from his lips.

"Jimmy? Jimmy wake up! Quit playing, Jimmy. Just... please, please wake up," she begged, grabbing his collar and pulling at him in desperation until Harry placed his hand over hers and gently loosened her grip.

"He's dead," Jo murmured, watching as a dozen emotions crashed across the other woman's face, and she finally sat down on the ground beside her partner's corpse.

Dean swallowed hard, glancing up to make sure Sam was behind him before he carefully helped Jo to her feet. He began to lead them toward the tunnel entrance without another word.

"Wait!" Dani called, struggling against Harry's assistance as she climbed unsteadily to her feet, "that's it? You're just blowing out of here?"

Dean looked down at Jimmy's body with genuine sadness and simply shook his head.

"There's nothing we can do for him now, except make sure you get out of here in one piece."

"You're making this about me?" she yelled, "that was his own freakin' decision to step in front of that thing, I... I never asked for his help."

The Winchester brothers glared at her with similar expressions of disbelief, Sam's brow furrowing deeply as he took a step towards the woman.

"He was in love with you," he stated, laughing softly as if he could not quite believe her protests.

Dean stared down at the ground, reminded suddenly of the countless times over the years that he and Sam had risked their lives for each other. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would do the same for Jo, as he also knew that Sam would too; after all, they were not only a team, but a family unit, never truly divided by the monikers of Harvelle and Winchester. And if there was one thing that John Winchester had taught his sons, despite his somewhat questionable parenting skills, it was that when you love somebody, in the face of danger your own life becomes forfeit; no questions asked, no time to think.

"Let's go," Jo said firmly, wincing as each step she took sent a stabbing pain down her side, and she leant a little more into Dean with each new step as the pain began to burn at her lungs, making the simple act of breathing an exertion.

"We've got you," Sam reassured her, looping his arm under the elbow on her injured side as he too offered her support.

"But… what about Jimmy?" Dani demanded, leaning heavily on Ed's shoulder as she attempted to limp after the Winchesters at speed.

"Look, sweetheart," Dean hissed, wheeling around to face the woman with eyes narrowed in frustration, "we need to get out of Dodge before any of the other nasties up there decide to follow Corrigan's lead. We have no corpses, no bones, no choice. Either you shut up and follow us, or you stay here and wind up like your friend."

Dani simply stared up at Dean for several fraught moments before finally she nodded her head and fell silent. The group shifted nervously and at speed through a second set of double doors, arriving in yet another dark room that was interspaced with vacant gurneys, and that boasted an entire wall of metallic drawers large enough to fit a person inside each. They had quite obviously arrived at the morgue, and Dean was surprised to discover that the atmosphere was not nearly as forboding as he had expected. It seemed almost ironic that, in the entirety of the rambling sanatorium, the most welcoming room was the one in which they had once stored their dead.

Picking his way across the morgue with Sam and Jo at his side, Dean made purposefully towards the back of the room, where he had spotted a lone wooden door, partially obscured behind a shelving unit. Leaving Jo unattended and leaning against a gurney for support, Dean and Sam hauled the shelves away from the entrance to the old body chute, triumphant and relieved smiles lighting their faces.

"Any idea how long this thing is?" Dean inquired, his attention back on Ed, who shrugged somewhat awkwardly as he did his best to maintain his grip on Dani's shoulder and assist her progression along the body chute. The chute itself was a narrow tunnel, barely wide enough for two persons to walk side by side, and with a low hanging ceiling that made it almost impossible for Sam to walk completely upright. It was dark, dank and decidedly creepy, but there was not one among the group who would rather turn around and try their luck with Corrigan's enraged spirit instead.

Dean shone the beam of his flashlight up ahead, thrilled beyond measure to see what looked suspiciously like another iron door at the far end of the passage.

"There! Up ahead!" he commanded, and the group quickened their pace as they followed the path he created. Jo gritted her teeth against the pain that had become so intense it had begun to addle her senses. She found herself almost dreading each step despite the fact that it brought them that much further away from danger.

"Not much further, sweetheart," Dean said sympathetically, suddenly turning his head as soft sobs echoed down through the tunnel.

Ed caught his gaze and only smiled tightly as he gestured down to Dani. The hunter stared at the ground as she walked, using the sleeve of her jacket to wipe at her nose and cheeks as a steady stream of tears cascaded from her eyes, taking layers of mascara with them. Though Dean felt somewhat for the woman, he could not help but assume that she shed tears of guilt rather than loss, and so his real sympathy lay instead with the man who had given his life for the woman he had misguidedly loved, and not with Dani's guilty conscience.

Leaving Dean to all but hold Jo upright, Sam ducked past the couple and moved to the door ahead. He grunted and tensed his jaw as he struggled to move the door that had not been opened in more than seventy years. Very slowly, the hinges began to yield, and Sam was able to drag the door open just a fraction. Shafts of early morning sunlight began to spill into the corridor and, encouraged, Ed and Harry raced on ahead to help. With the extra weight in front of it, the door swung open with a shriek of metal against concrete, and the Ghostfacers let out relieved whoops. They paused to high five each other on the threshold of the doorway, before stepping to one side to allow Sam and Dean passage into the surrounding forest with Jo held carefully between them.

"Thank God," Ed spluttered, dropping to the leafy ground and literally kissing the dirt, hardly seeming to care that clumps of earth were clinging to his beard.

Dani was the last one to step into the early morning air, her arms hugging her body. No sooner had she moved clear of the door than it started to swing shut of its own accord. Ed and Harry jumped back, staring wide eyed as from within the tunnel, a pair of haunting blue eyes peered back at them. The boy raised one hand and sadly waggled his fingers, a stray tear sliding down his pallid cheek.

Jo let out a sigh, her sympathy for the trapped child's spirit evident in her eyes, and she waved back before the heavy iron door finally sealed itself shut.

"What now… I mean… no way am I up for going back in there but… what about all the ghosts?" Harry inquired, glancing to Sam for direction.

All three hunters shared similarly thoughtful glances, until Sam finally smiled slyly, "Dean, exactly how much salt and gasoline did you say we have in the trunk?"

Slowly catching his brother's inference, Dean smirked, shrugging as he turned and swept his gaze over the vast building behind them.

"Enough to ensure Jeff Nabley won't be building any luxury condos anytime soon."

Jo smiled in disbelief, and Dean was suddenly transported back to a time that seemed so very long ago, when they had celebrated the defeat of a similarly malevolent spirit over the chute of a cement truck. His affectionate glances did not go unnoticed, and Sam felt a similar pang of nostalgia. Even then, caught quite literally between the sparring pair, Sam had known that Jo Harvelle was distinctly not like the other girls to have turned his brother's head.

"Seriously?" Jo's grin widened in awe at their plan and it's wholly destructive and strictly illegal nature.

Ed and Harry looked at each other in confusion, Ed finally declaring in a wary tone, "I don't... I don't understand."

Harry shrugged, glancing at each of the brothers in turn as he sought a further explanation.

Waggling his eyebrows, Dean turned to head off toward the Impala, swagger now firmly in place.

"Who brought marshmallows?!"

**x-x-x**

Although they stood on the roadside, at a safe distance from the inferno that the Old Mount View Sanatorium had become, Jo could still feel the heat of the flames against her cheeks. She continued to watch the red brick structure burn, fascinated by the way the flames reached towards the sky, and more than a little horrified by the dozens of angry screams that could be heard from the inside of the building.

Jo leaned heavily against the side of the Impala, one arm permanently attached to her midsection, which throbbed painfully every time she sucked in a breath.

Ed and Harry stood off to one side, huddled together as they no doubt congratulated each other on surviving yet another potentially deadly encounter with supernatural forces. Sam and Dean were positioned a little ways in front of Jo, their lips twisted into a similar grin as they watched their handy work take effect on the building. Due to the amount of gasoline that Sam had doused liberally around the structure, it would be rendered to ash in no time at all, and the Winchesters could not be more satisfied with that fact if they tried.

Dean caught sight of Jo in his peripheral vision, and he turned and jabbed a finger in her direction as he approached her, "Alright Harvelle, you're going to the ER."

Jo rolled her eyes, poised to mutiny when Dean held up his hand and widened his eyes in a gesture that relayed he was not prepared to discuss his order.

"Jo..." he warned, shaking his head.

"Dean, I'm fine. It's just a cracked rib, that's all. I'll take a couple of painkillers and I'll be good as new...promise," she said with a sweet smile in an attempt to ease his obvious concern. Dean, however, deflected her protest immediately with a scowl.

"Yeah, and it won't hurt to let a doc check you out," he countered, opening the passenger door of the Impala ready for Jo to climb inside. Sighing in a mixture of defeat and irritation, Jo glowered up at him but consented to smile when he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Fine. But you suck," she accused, eyes narrowed as she poked her tongue out playfully before sliding inside the car.

Dani stood in perfect silence as she watched the flames crawl up the outside of the walls, and window panes shattered with the very force of the heat building up inside.

"Uh… Ed… where's the camera?" Harry suddenly demanded, spinning around with a horror stricken expression to stare at his partner, who merely opened his mouth blankly in response. Slowly, and in perfect synchronicity, the Ghostfacers both turned to watch as the sanatorium burned, taking the last of their pricey equipment, and thus their proof of the supernatural, with it.

Sniffing purposefully, Dani turned away from the building, unable to watch any longer as floor after floor begun to cave in, and she found her thoughts drifting back to Jimmy's body lying in the basement. Her only comfort was the thought that the flames would provide him with the hunter's funeral he had truly earned.

Dani limped over to the Winchesters, both of whom were still leaning on the hood of the Impala, and drew to a standstill in front of Dean.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Dean," she said quietly, her eyes dropping to the ground as she found herself unable to look at him. "I hope I didn't screw things up between you and Jo. I can see you really care about her."

"Yeah. I think it's maybe Jo you owe the apology to," Dean suggested, smiling not unkindly at the dishevelled brunette. Dani sucked in a deep breath and bowed her head, wincing not only as a consequence of the pain in her ankle, but at the thought of the impending conversation with the woman she had wronged. Ambling over toward the open door of the passenger side, Dani craned her head and cleared her throat, until Jo tore her gaze away from the crumbling building and arched an eyebrow in her direction.

"Probably doesn't mean too much but, I'm sorry," she admonished, "don't... don't be mad at him, he didn't do anything. He's a good guy."

Jo narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips as she looked the other woman up and down, "I know."

An awkward silence fell between them, then Dani smiled tightly before she began to hobble away.

Releasing a sigh, Jo shook her head in partial annoyance at herself before she called out, "Hey, you need a ride to the hospital? You should probably get that ankle x-rayed or something."

Dani thought over the invitation for only a moment, before she shrugged and shook her head dismissively.

"Think I might stick around here for a while," she answered, then pausing, added, "but... thanks."

The Winchesters piled into the car wearily, and as Dean gunned the engine he lowered the window to address the two men who were standing staring blankly up at the ravaged hospital.

"So close. We were so close," Ed said forlornly, shaking his head as scuffed his foot along the ground.

"Guess we'll see you two goof balls around," Dean stated, ignoring the distaste his impending words had already conjured on his tongue, "you uh... you did good in there."

Both men's faces blossomed into wide smiles. Clearly uncomfortable with the bonding moment he had unwittingly created, Dean nodded at the Ghostfacers one final time before the Impala began to crawl toward the sanatorium gates. Sam scrambled out of the car to push the gates open, pausing to toss the lock and chain into nearby shrubbery before returning to the Impala again. No sooner had his door slammed shut than the car had sped off with a squeal of tyres, and subsequently vanished from sight in an immense cloud of dust and exhaust fumes.

"Cool," Ed whispered as he was joined by Harry, who clapped him on the back in a show of agreement.

"_Very_ cool."

Reaching into his pocket, Ed retrieved his hand held voice recorder and, with a final glance at the Old Mount View Sanatorium, he stabbed the 'record' button.

"And so the hunters disappear into the obscurity of daylight, but still they will be watching and waiting; hiding in the shadows until they are called on once again to continue their never-ending fight against the dark forces that threaten our very existence. They'll rest, they'll celebrate, they'll revel in the sweet moment of victory, but they'll always be back - because the world needs heroes… and evil never truly dies."

**The End of Episode Eleven**

**(Next Episode – Hello Darkness, My Old Friend)**

* * *

><p><strong>There will almost certainly be some errors in here so apologies for that, but this is the longest update of this fic yet, and I (Silverspoon) solo edited it. So all pitchforks to be directed this way, folks. However, if you find an error, why not review and tell us, thus helping us to learn from our fanfic experience?! ;-)<strong>


	34. Chapter 34

_**Episode 12 – Part 1**_

'_**Hello Darkness, My Old Friend'**_

_**x-x-x**_

_**Harvelle's Roadhouse, Nebraska**_

_**December 9**__**th**__** 2011**_

The gunshots rang out across the vast expanse of wilderness, one after the other, with only a brief pause and the sound of shattering glass punctuating each shot. Lifting her head, and tossing back her blonde curls, Jo Harvelle smiled with evident satisfaction at the scene of destruction. Pausing only to reload her shotgun, she took aim at the targets pinned to the trunks of old trees further down her makeshift firing range, and her finger very gently squeezed the trigger of the Winchester rifle. Each bullet landed with precision in the centre of the target, creating a large hole where the central black sphere once existed. A grin settled on her lips even before she had lowered her gun, and Jo arched an eyebrow in her boyfriend's direction, whilst he stared down the range in obvious appreciation of her skills.

"Not bad, Harvelle," he nodded, smirking as his pointed understatement caused her to roll her eyes. As she trudged through the snow to retrieve the paper targets, Dean Winchester stared after her with evident admiration.

"Please, I'm totally deadly and you know it," Jo teased, arriving back at Dean's side with the targets, before raising herself up on her tiptoes in order to plant a kiss on his lips. Instead, however, Jo hissed as the action tugged at her midsection, and sent a jolt of pain through her ribcage.

Dean leaned forwards, his features alive with concern as he reached for Jo, who playfully but pointedly swatted him away.

"I'm good," she stated firmly, answering the question that Dean dare not even ask since Jo had already forbade him several days into her recovery from a broken rib. "Just a twinge, Dean-o."

Realising arguing with her was fruitless, Dean simply continued on from her previous train of thought, and he bent his head to press the first of several kisses against her lips, each rapidly becoming more urgent.

Dean broke away, stroking the back of his knuckles down Jo's cheek, "What do you say instead of freezing our asses off out here, we go inside, light a fire, and finish up trimming the tree? Maybe wash down some of those cookies Sammy made with a little eggnog?"

Jo giggled, cocking her head in amusement, "You've kind of got a whole 'Clark Griswold' thing going on right now Dean, you do know that, right?"

A briefly melancholy expression clouded his features, and Jo placed her hand over his and pressed a kiss against his palm.

"I guess," Dean admonished, beginning to smile wistfully as he replied, "it's just never been like this for me before, you know?! Not since..."

He paused, and Jo bobbed her head in understanding, "We're all together, we got a home, and... we're a family."

Though it was not the first Christmas the Winchester boys and Jo Harvelle had spent together, it was the first without the lingering cloud of grief hanging over the season. Last year they had been grieving Ellen's death, and preparing to go into battle against the devil himself. The season had barely registered on their collective radar, something which Sam and Dean acknowledged had happened throughout their childhoods with frightening regularity. This year was different though, and Dean intended to seize all the commercialist, sappy, Hallmark-esque crap he could, and celebrate the occasion like 'normal folks'; and if that meant Bing Crosby, twinkle lights, and decking the God damned halls, then so be it.

"Come on, those cookies aren't gonna eat themselves," Jo said, her smile wide as she slipped her arm inside Dean's jacket in order to wrap it around his waist. Together, they started out towards the lights that shone in the windows of the new roadhouse, their steps somewhat halting and precarious as they struggled through the many inches of crisp, white snow that had been falling in Nebraska for the last several days.

They reached the entrance to the bar and Dean held the door wide for Jo, allowing her to step into the warmth of the roadhouse before him. As she paused to shake out her jacket, the sleeves and collar of which were spotted with errant snowflakes, there was a chorus of greetings tossed out to her by the many hunters and familiar patrons who occupied the tables. Although business at the roadhouse had always been good, it seemed to have peaked even more of late, mainly since Jo had hired Sophia to be bar manager. Jo had to admit that, despite her lack of experience in the bar front, Sophia seemed to have a knack of knowing just what would pull in the customers, whether that be the introduction of a new quiz, a festive themed cocktail menu, or dressing in a particularly scandalous elf costume that had many of the regulars' eyes bugging out of their perverted old heads. Jo had snickered when she had noted Bobby as one of their number. Indeed, she had found him literally hanging on Sophia's every last word as the woman filled salt shakers looking like a reject from a festive porno.

The couple greeted each and every one of the patrons, and Dean chatted amiably with the teasing old-timers, most of whom referred to him as 'kid', and never thought twice in telling stories about Dean's infamous father. The words 'your old man' were as commonplace around the bar as any, and they always invariably involved either the Winchester or Harvelle patriarch.

Sophia hurried down the bar as she spied Dean and Jo, and the auburn haired woman raised her hand and waved above the noisy banter to get Jo's attention.

"Jo, you've got a visitor! I put her in the corner booth and sent over a burger. She says her name's Emily."

"Thanks!" Jo yelled back, frowning as she picked her way across the bar floor, Dean at her side.

"You expecting someone?" he asked, noting the confused and thoughtful expression that had settled on her face.

"Nope," she replied, popping the 'p' for emphasis.

Jo crossed the bar towards the booth that Sophia had indicated with her curiosity sky high. As she approached, her gaze befell the woman seated at the table, who was absently pushing fries around the edge of her untouched burger. Jo smiled, not immediately recognising the slight blonde, although she could not resist introducing herself with a good natured quip.

"I have it on good authority that those are the best burgers this side of Nebraska," she began, before sliding herself into the booth, "don't let the grease ring on the napkin fool you. It all adds to the flavour."

The woman's head jerked up, and she affixed Jo with a surprised stare, despite the fact that she was the one who had come seeking out the hunter.

"Hi, Jo," she smiled softly, looking for a spark of recognition.

As Jo surveyed the woman's face, an almost delighted smile formed upon her lips, and she shooed Dean out of the booth hurriedly in order to clamber to her feet.

"Em!" she all but squealed, throwing her arms around the waist of the other woman, who had also risen to her feet to meet Jo's embrace. She buried her head in Jo's shoulder, squeezing hard as her arms wound around Jo.

Jo let out a pained hiss, gently but firmly extracting herself from her old college friend's less than weak grasp.

Emily looked up expectantly at Dean, and Jo gestured to him as he smiled by means of a somewhat confused greeting.

"This your guy?" Emily asked, grinning excitedly and watching as Jo bobbed her head.

"Yeah, this is Dean. Dean, this is Emily Van Dolen, we were roommates in college," she supplied, exchanging a briefly sappy smile with the hunter before Emily also grabbed him in a similarly enthusiastic embrace. Leaning her head over Dean's shoulder, the woman gave Jo the 'thumbs up' sign, mouthing "Oh my God, he's hot!" before she finally released him and adopted a more demure demeanour once again. The three sat back down in the booth, and Jo stared at her friend in obvious disbelief at her presence.

"Wow, it's got to have been like... three years since we've seen each other?" Jo began, trying to figure the last time she and her friend had spoken outside of web chats and emails.

Emily pondered briefly and then offered Jo a repentant smile, "I guess it has. You look... exactly the same as when we were in college, it's... kind of irritating."

Jo shrugged and swatted at her friend, accepting three bottles of beer from Sophia with a quiet 'thanks'.

Emily seized her bottle and began picking at the label as a form of distraction, "After the wedding I guess I dropped off the radar for a while, huh?"

Jo smiled good-naturedly, "Real life kicks our asses sometimes, I get that. Believe me. So, how's married life?"

Emily seemed to brighten, digging around in her oversized beige purse for a minute before producing her cell phone. She tapped away at the buttons then proceeded to thrust the device into Jo's hands, a wide and openly proud smile adorning her face.

Jo gazed down at the picture of the infant now filling the screen. The baby was peering at the camera through wide blue eyes that were almost an exact duplicate of Emily's. Fluffy blonde hair stuck out at all angles from the crown of her head, and a large pink pacifier was clamped firmly between her lips. Her tiny but plump fingers were curled around a pale yellow comforter, and her head was cocked almost questioningly to one side as she surveyed the person who was taking her photograph.

"That's Sadie," Emily explained, unable to wipe the grin of maternal pride off her face now that her thoughts had drifted to her daughter, "she's almost four months now."

"Congratulations," replied Jo, making the appropriate cooing noises at the image before handing the cell back to Emily. "A baby is just… awesome."

Dean hid a snigger behind his hand, knowing the suspicion and fear with which Jo tended to regard small children, given her general lack of experience in that area. However, Emily appeared not to notice any discomfort, her eyes shining as she nodded her head vehemently, poised to launch into a detailed analysis of her offspring, Dean did not doubt.

"She was kind of a surprise, since I'd just accepted a more senior position at my company, but we're making it work," she stated, sweeping her hand around the bar as she explained, "I'm still on maternity leave for the next few weeks and I was passing through Nebraska on my way to my Mom's so I thought I'd use the excuse to catch up with you."

"Well, I'm glad you did," Jo answered with a genuine smile as she reached across the table and loosely clasped Emily's hand. "It's real good to see you, Em."

Emily nodded, looking as if she was poised to speak, when her cell phone began to vibrate violently against the table. After glancing quickly at the number now flashing on the screen, she snatched it up, her face having paled considerably, "I'm sorry, I just need to get this..."

"Sure," Jo nodded, her smile in place until Emily had picked her way through the bar patrons to find a quieter spot outside the roadhouse.

"A baby is awesome?" Dean chuckled, mirth clearly playing across his features as he happily teased his girlfriend.

Jo sighed, taking a sip of her beer before she shot him her best withering glare, "Yuck it up, Winchester. That's what you say when people show you baby pictures. You smile, tell them how great it is they've reproduced, and even if it looks like a werewolf's butt, you say how cute it is and everybody leaves happy."

Dean held up his hands, admirably managing to keep a straight face, "No, I mean... I like babies. They're... awesome."

He sniggered, receiving a well deserved elbow in the ribs.

"Shut up!" Jo rolled her eyes, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms over her chest as she confessed, "I've told you before, Dean, I just don't get the whole baby thing. I don't know what to do with them, they scare the crap out of me, and you know what? They all look the same... they're all short, fat, bald, and they drool a lot."

Dean arched an eyebrow and took a swig of his beer, "You know you pretty much described Bobby, there."

Jo snorted in agreement, but Dean's next wholly unanticipated sentence sent a chill of terror to her very core.

"But... I guess our kid would be kind of cute," he said softly, smiling as he appeared to mull the idea over in his head. Jo's eyes grew wider and wider, until eventually she reached for her beer and downed the remainder of the bottle without so much as pausing for breath.

"What?" Dean inquired, generally perplexed as he frowned at Jo, "what did I say?"

Mercifully for Jo, she found herself not needing to provide an answer as Emily reappeared in the doorway and wove across the crowded bar floor back to her seat.

However, she remained standing when she reached the table, foraging on the booth seat for her purse, which she slung over her shoulder immediately.

"I'm sorry to do this, Jo," she began, chewing on her bottom lip with an overly anxious look in her eyes, "but I have to go. There's a family emergency at my Mom's and…"

"That's ok," Jo replied, hastily standing and moving to intercept Emily in a warm hug. As she drew away, however, she noticed the unshed tears sparkling in the corners of the other woman's eyes, and Jo felt her suspicions somewhat prickled.

Reaching into her pocket, Jo withdrew one of the business cards she had had printed for the roadhouse some weeks ago, and yet only now gotten into the habit of carrying on her person. Emily accepted the card, taking several seconds to examine it before she glanced back up at her friend.

"If you need anything, Em, doesn't matter what time, just call," Jo insisted, following at the side of the woman as she made her way towards the exit. She shrugged on the heavy winter jacket that had been folded in her lap until that point, and began to toy nervously with the zipper as she faced Jo.

"You were always a great friend, Jo," she murmured, smiling self-consciously as a single tear slid from her eye. She caught it before it had even descended the apple of her cheek, almost as though she had known she would lose the fight to contain it even before it had started.

"Em, are you okay? If you need help, anything... whatever it is, you can tell me," Jo implored gently.

Emily smiled and nodded, sniffling as she lifted her head to regard her old friend, "You know, when you left college like that, there were some pretty crazy rumours. Some people said Jake had knocked you up..."

Jo grimaced, "Can we please agree to never mention that creep's name again?!"

Emily managed a brief puff of laughter before she continued, "People from our chem. lab were convinced you'd joined a cult... but I got it. I knew why you left, Jo. You weren't like everyone else, you were different. You knew things about... Well, about..."

Emily stared down at the ground, her fingers still toying with the zipper on her coat as she released a heavy hearted sigh.

"I'll see you around, Jo," she said finally, enclosing the petite blonde in a tight hug that was both hesitant and heartfelt. Jo felt the desperation in her embrace, heard it in her friend's tone of voice, but Emily did not seem to want to share her burdens.

"Take care, Em," Jo held her gaze, and a strangely nervous sensation rose up from the pit of her stomach as she watched the woman exit the bar and step out into the cold afternoon air.

"What was all that about?" Dean asked, a similarly uncomfortable feeling having descended on him, although he had no clue as to why that might be.

Jo simply shook her head, her unrest only growing as she murmured, "I have no idea."

**x-x-x**

Sam grimaced as he plunged his hand into the nearest box marked 'CHRISTMAS' in large, messily scrawled marker pen. He withdrew his arm only when he had managed to snag a length of lights, which did not pull free of the box as easily as Sam had dared to hope they would.

He rolled his eyes as after a minute of struggling, he managed to extract a hefty tangle of bulbs and green wiring from the mass of decorations that Ellen and Jo had evidently quite literally thrown back into their boxes when they had last used them.

"Seriously… is it so hard to wind the damn things round a roll of newspaper?" Sam grumbled to himself, unaware of the figure who watched him from the doorway, one pointy-shoe clad foot tapping against the floor somewhat absently.

Sam jumped as the female voice rang out through the lounge, causing him to drop the lights he grappled with before he had managed to make any headway. As they hit the floor, he only had time to hope that he had not dislodged, or worse broken, any of the tiny snowflake shaped bulbs.

"When you're annoyed, the bridge of your nose crinkles," Sophia admonished, padding forwards, still clad in the finery of her elf costume. She grinned as she added, "But not when you smile. That's when you screw your eyes half shut. It's pretty damn cute, really. Can I help?"

"Uh, well I... Uh, I mean... Sure," he managed to regain his senses and offered her a warm smile, now conscious of whether or not the bridge of his nose had in fact creased with the action. "That'd be great, thanks."

Sophia beamed, quickly joining him in unravelling the yards and yards of various twinkle lights, both laughing at the coughing fits the dust from Bobby's attic had ensured.

"So, I was wondering..." Sophia began, staring down diplomatically at the bells on her shoes before she lifted her big blue eyes into what she hoped was a suitably pleading expression. Sam swallowed hard, his cheeks colouring with embarrassment as he nodded and tried not to stare too hard into said blue eyes. Although given their close proximity, and the obvious attraction between them, that was becoming more difficult by the second.

"There's a Star Wars movie marathon on at the local theatre downtown tonight. Would you, I mean... do you want to go? With me?" she finished up with a wince, awaiting a reply.

"Star Wars? You're into all that stuff?" he blinked, hardly imagining for a second that behind the bright, bubbly, chatty exterior lay a latent sci-fi geek. Sophia blushed, taking Sam's comment as a negative, perhaps mocking reply to her question.

"Oh yeah. But, I mean... It's fine. I just... I just thought I'd ask. No problem," she smiled and rolled her eyes, "forget I asked, huh?"

Sam held up his hands, shaking his head vehemently, "No, no. I mean, I'd love to go... with you."

Sophia's face was overcome with the widest smile Sam thought he had ever seen, and her eyes twinkled merrily, "You would?! Well, okay then. I guess you can pick me up at 5.30, which... will be kind of easy since I live down the hall from you and all."

Sam laughed softly, glancing down as their hands accidentally brushed over a string of lights. Hearing her name being called, or more accurately yelled, by a rowdy patron, Sophia arched an eyebrow and shrugged apologetically, "Guess I better get back out there."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, quickly holding his breath as Sophia suddenly pointed to a sprig of mistletoe that dangled from the tip of her hat. Before he had time to react, Sophia leant in and pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek.

She climbed to her feet and hurried over toward the door, pausing to gesture down to the tangle of lights he had once again begun picking through, "Oh... use the force, young Winchester."

Chuckling to himself, Sam began to unwind the lights with renewed purpose, and significantly lightened spirits.

**x-x-x**

Darkness had long since fallen, bringing with it a fresh sprinkling of snow and a chill wind that rattled the windows of the roadhouse as it swept along the walls of the building. Dean peered out into the storm, a smile forming on his lips as he felt the warmth of the fire kissing the side of his face, and the soft strains of decades old Christmas songs echoing around their newly decorated lounge.

The six foot fir was real, newly cut down from the expanse of woodland a few miles from the roadhouse, and the scent of its branches permeated the room along with the two tall mugs of mulled wine that Jo had poured for them.

Much to Dean's surprise, he had discovered that Jo had somewhat of a weakness for Christmas activities herself, and he had watched, enthralled, as she had all but danced around the room, throwing tinsel over picture frames and placing festive ornaments on shelves. She had already consumed more mulled wine than she should have given the strong pain meds the hospital had prescribed her, but Dean could tell that her brighter than usual glow was more to do with high spirits than a combination of pills and booze.

"Silver bells…" Jo sang softly as she tangled a length of garland around the fireplace mantle, "it's Christmas time in the city…"

Dean appeared behind her, his head cocked to one side as he listened intently to Jo's singing, which was a sound he scarcely heard beyond the realms of the shower. He felt the warmth of his affection for her rising from the pit of his stomach, until it reached his face and not only coloured his cheeks, but caused a smile to bloom there.

His arms slid around her waist, and Jo relaxed into his embrace, a soft, contented sigh escaping her lips as he pressed his cheek to hers and brushed his lips against her skin. She hummed in approval, reaching up and stroking his jaw with her fingertips. Dean closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair that was blending alluringly with the smell of fresh pine needles and cinnamon. It was a moment of utter contentment, and for perhaps the hundredth time that year, Dean sent a silent prayer to whoever was in charge, all but begging for this to be real. Because it somehow seemed too perfect, too good to be true, and his experiences over the years had hammered that point home on more than one occasion.

"That's a lot of thinking going on there, Dean-o," Jo smiled, turning in his arms as though she could practically hear the cogs whirring in his brain. Dean smiled and simply shrugged, and before she had a chance to speak again, his palms had landed gently on either side of her face. He stared down silently into her eyes, his expression adoring yet oddly troubled.

"Dean?" Jo frowned, finding herself quickly silenced as his lips descended on hers. He kissed her so gently that Jo felt her heart practically ache and when he drew back, he was staring at her as if he had doubted what he would see when he opened his eyes.

"I am one lucky son of a bitch," Dean breathed, almost as though he was talking to himself rather than Jo. She giggled in response, smoothing her hand across his cheek as she gazed up at him.

"Yes you are," she agreed, her tone playful but affectionate. He leaned forwards again, stealing kiss after kiss in rapid succession until Jo was forced to plant one hand in the centre of his chest and gently push him away before breathing became difficult.

"I love you, Harvelle," Dean murmured, his grin widening as she poked him in the ribs at the use of her surname, which had almost become an alternative to pet names between them now.

"Right back at you, Winchester," she teased, although she stood up on her toes in order to initiate another kiss that could not fail but to support her claim.

"Couch?" she suggested, breathing heavily as she leant into him, her arms around his neck and a pleasant tingle burning her kiss-stung lips.

"Couch," he confirmed, steering her toward it as their lips met before they had even sat down. They managed admirably not to break the kiss, and Jo maneuvered deftly into his lap as their hands and lips began a well practiced exploration of warm skin.

His arms encircled her hips, and Dean pulled her tight against him as her back arched, her eyes slammed shut and a short, sharp gasp escaped her lips. She writhed against him, frustrated at the amount of clothing that still separated them, and Dean wasted no time in carefully tugging her shirt up and over her head. The offending item landed on the floor, soon joined by his own shirt and undershirt in rapid succession. He dragged a trail of kisses across the swell of her breasts, as his fingers fumbled with the catch of her bra - a task made ever the more difficult by her nimble fingers dragging down the zip of his jeans and sliding into his boxers.

Jo suddenly froze, her hand comically stilled over his crotch, "Did you hear something?"

She could have sworn she had heard a distinct knocking sound somewhere over the Christmas music and the sound of their urgent, ragged breathing.

Dean paused for only a second, listening out over the music and shaking his head in relief, "Not a damn thing."

Jo laughed, as their mouths crashed together again and Dean carefully dragged the straps of her bra down her arms. This time a loud, sharp beeping noise was clearly discernible, and the couple sighed in irritation as the oven alerted them to the fact that their late night snack was cooked.

"Pizza's done," Jo stated, her breath coasting over Dean's neck as she kissed down his jaw and began industriously swirling her tongue around the throbbing pulse point in his neck. Dean groaned, although more in frustration than arousal, and as the persistent beep continued, he grudgingly moved Jo from his lap and stood up from the couch.

"Okay, don't... don't move," he directed, watching as she tossed her bra onto the floor and lay back against the cushions with an impatient expression that implored him to hurry.

"You got two minutes, Dean, then I'm starting without you," she warned, grinning as he clearly contemplated that visual.

Practically salivating, and quietly cursing his stomach for having demanded sustenance at such an inconvenient time, Dean raced into the kitchen. He paused on his way to the oven only to seize the dishcloth from the counter, which he wrapped around his hand in order to safely remove the pizza from the oven.

"Crap, crap, crap…" Dean muttered irritably as the heat found its way through the flimsy towel and began to make his fingers tingle unpleasantly. He flung the tray onto the counter, unconcerned when it skittered across it. He no longer cared if his triple pepperoni with extra cheese ended up the wrong side up on the kitchen floor since other more voracious appetites had been encouraged.

However, as Dean was on his way back into the lounge, a familiar stirring beginning in his loins as he thought of Jo reclining, semi-clothed against the cushions, an alien sound drifted to his ears from outside, no doubt carried on a gust of the raging wind.

Dean padded to the back door, all thoughts of fireside sex momentarily postponed, and he leaned against the cold frame, straining to detect the strange, high pitched noise again.

"Damn cats," he muttered, wondering if once again a couple of the town strays had made their way to the back of the roadhouse for what he irritably referred to as 'kitty Thunderdome'. It had become a frequent occurrence during the summer and fall months for he and Jo to be awoken at all manner of ungodly hours by fighting cats, and despite being something of an animal lover, an interruption now would not be well received.

"God damn it, Lester," he fumed, pulling the door open and expecting to find a familiar shaggy haired feline sitting pawing the back door. What he did not expect, was the screaming face of a tiny baby greeting him instead. Dean's features contorted in absolute horror, and he glanced hurriedly around the yard trying to find any trace of the person who had left this squalling creature on their doorstep. The child lay swaddled in a thick snow suit, complete with a pink woollen hat and a cocoon of blankets around her. Two diaper bags sat beside the car seat she reclined in, both looking to be brimming over with supplies.

"Jo? Sweetheart? You wanna get in here?" he called, rolling his eyes as he hastily zipped up his jeans and hoisted the car seat into the kitchen, depositing it safely in the centre of the table before he snatched up the bags and dumped them on the ground. Closing the door against the onslaught of snow, Dean sighed, "Jo? Seriously... We got a problem."

"You bet your sweet ass we do, Dean-o," Jo drawled as she finally sauntered into the kitchen, having evidently paused to locate her bra once Dean had called, "I'm putting clothes back on here instead of losing them. What…"

Jo suddenly fell silent as her eyes fell upon the carseat and the now silent but still writhing infant, who was turning her head this way and that with a wide open mouth as she struggled to replace the pacifier she had spat out.

"What the hell?" demanded Jo, her face paling significantly as she took a few hesitant steps towards the baby.

"I'm guessing your friend left us a little parting gift," Dean drawled, shaking his head and groaning inwardly. "That's her baby, isn't it?"

Jo shrugged, frowning and wrinkling her nose as she concentrated on studying the baby, who glared analytically back at her.

"I don't know, I told you they all look the same to me," she finally answered, her gaze ticking to the overstuffed diaper bags which were now spilling over their content onto the kitchen floor.

"Do you have her number?" Dean inquired, shivering as the cool night air began to prickle at the skin of his torso, which was still bare.

"I have a number that's maybe a few years old," Jo replied, already heading back to the lounge in order to locate her cell phone. She called back over her shoulder, her voice thick with concern, "Are you certain Em's not out there? She could be hurt."

"No, no sign of her," Dean called back, frowning as he contemplated releasing the child from her seat. He glanced toward the living room as he heard Jo rather testily leaving a voicemail and knew his options for assistance were limited.

"Alright, so, you must be Sadie," he said, addressing the baby, "Dean Winchester, good to meet you... I guess."

The baby smiled and gurgled in approval, and Dean chuckled to himself as he undid the safety belt and lifted the child up into his arms. Removing her hat, he balanced her on his hip and smoothed down her shock of fuzzy blonde hair that instantly stood on end.

"Don't worry, this is strictly a temporary arrangement, we're gonna find your mom, and straighten this mess out," he assured the child, gently laying her on the kitchen table as he struggled to free her from her snow suit.

"Look, this process would go a whole lot quicker if you'd quit wriggling so much," he griped good-naturedly, triumphantly hoisting her back against his chest as he tossed the clothing into her carrier.

"Okay, well, there we go..." he began, clueless as to what to do next as he bounced her gently and began to stare around the kitchen as though he may happen upon some answers.

Jo returned to the kitchen moments later having quickly redressed, carrying Dean's shirt in her hand as she stormed along.

"She's not picking up," she sighed, running her hands through her hair as she stared at the child and shrugged, "I knew something was wrong, I should never have let her leave here."

Dean shook his head, patting the infant's back as he continued, "You couldn't know she'd do something like this, Jo. This is... this is crazy, is what it is."

Jo sat down at the kitchen table, dropping her head into her hands as she groaned in despair, "What the hell are we going to do? We can't take care of a baby. What was she thinking?!"

"I don't think she was," Dean answered, his expression darkening as he seated himself opposite Jo and carefully balanced the baby on the edge of his knees. She reached forwards and began to slap the table immediately, her eyes alive with curiosity at the noise that her pudgy palms made as they connected with the wood.

"You saw the way she was when she talked about the kid," Dean reminded Jo, his eyes then darting pointedly to the bags, "and she's obviously well cared for. I guess the question is, what's scared her so bad that she thought her only option was to leave the kid here with us?"

Jo shook her head, her features belaying her helplessness as she considered Dean's words.

"God, I have no idea," she mumbled, shaking her head and sighing as she regarded the baby, a touch of fear reflected in her eyes, "should we call the police? I mean… how do we know she's planning on coming back?"

"Check the bags," Dean instructed, his hunter instincts suddenly kicking in now that his shock had somewhat allayed, "look for a note or a clue… something."

Jo nodded, quickly beginning to rifle through each bag. She piled a mountain of carefully laundered and pressed baby clothes onto the table, followed by bottles, three large cans of formula, toys, diapers, and various other items. But no letter seemed to be amongst them.

"Damn it, Emily," she fumed, watching out of the corner of her eye as Dean held the gurgling baby up to eye level and pulled all manner of ridiculous faces at her.

"Having fun over there, Dean?" Jo asked, eyes wide as he simply shrugged and carried on regardless.

"Oh, you ignore your Aunt Jo, she's just mad because she thought she was getting laid tonight," Dean stated with a grin, "which I was kind of hoping for too. Hmm, maybe that's not a word I should be teaching you, huh?!"

"I found something!" Jo announced, holding aloft a letter that had been tucked down the side of the car seat. She hastily tore it open, pulling out the letter and skimming it with a deep sense of trepidation.

"What does it say?" Dean pressed, observing Jo's worried frown with unease beginning to form in the pit of his stomach.

Jo arched an eyebrow, clearing her throat before she read from the torn off notebook page aloud, "Dear Jo, I'm so sorry to do this to you but I have nobody else to turn to. You were always good with this kind of stuff back in college, and I know you'll protect Sadie better than I can. I need her to be somewhere safe for a little while, and once all this has blown over, you have my word that I'll come back for her. Once again, I'm sorry. Please tell Sadie I love her."

"That it?" Dean asked askance, attempting to peer over Jo's shoulder as she scanned the bottom of the page.

"Except for a list of instructions about how to make a bottle of formula, pretty much," Jo answered, sucking on her front teeth with a look of concern etched across her features. She shot a glance at the baby, who appeared to be watching her with a bemused look on her chubby face.

"She full on Three Men and A Baby'd us," Dean stated, shaking his head in apparent disbelief.

"There's more to this than just a mom who can't cope anymore, Dean," Jo replied, re-reading the letter a second time, and picking out several points of interest.

"What are you thinking?" Dean asked, grappling with a bottle of formula that had been in the diaper bag, as Sadie began to cry and thrashed her little fists around in temper.

The bottle was still warm to the touch, and Dean could only assume that Emily had tried to leave them as prepared as possible. Jo winced, blonde brows furrowed as she attempted to talk over the screaming infant, "That this is more about James than it is Em or the baby."

"James is her husband?" Dean checked, silence now falling on them once again as Sadie drank hungrily from her bottle and kept a watchful eye on the stranger holding her.

"Yeah, he's some big shot lawyer, didn't really seem her type, but he was nice enough I guess. Kind of a quiet, unassuming sort of guy... Or he was when I met him, anyway. But this note, this kind of makes me think he's not himself. And that maybe she came to me for a reason."

Dean pursed his lips, glancing down at the baby in his arms as he mulled over their situation, "Okay, so Sammy and I will pay this dude a visit, check things out. He's met you, so I guess that means you're on babysitting duty."

Jo grimaced, half at the reality of the situation, and half at Dean's abject joy at her discomfort. He held the baby comfortably against his chest, nonchalantly feeding her the formula without the slightest element of awkwardness. It was a strange sight to behold, and Jo cocked her head as she regarded her boyfriend suspiciously.

"Why are you so good at that?"

Dean smiled sadly, arching an eyebrow as he replied honestly, "Who'd you think changed Sammy's diapers and walked him around the floor at 3am?! Sure wasn't our Dad."

His tone carried the faintest traces of resentment, and Jo stood up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his as they both peered down in silent contemplation at the wide-eyed infant in his arms.

It was this particular pose that Sam and Sophia stumbled upon them in as they clattered noisily through the door that adjoined the bar to their living quarters. Seeing Jo, Dean and the baby, Sam froze, his eyes impossibly wide, and he blinked a few times as though he were trying to dispel what he believed to be a hallucination.

"What the hell happened here?" he finally demanded, his eyes shooting from Jo to Dean and then to the baby, "we were only gone like eight hours!"

Sophia chuckled, shaking her head and patting Sam on his bicep before she interjected.

"I think I'm going to turn in and leave you guys to talk," she stated, her fingertips lingering on Sam's arm a little longer than was truly necessary- a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Jo.

"Goodnight… and thanks for tonight," Sam said softly, glancing down at Sophia and easily managing to spare her a smile. The two regarded each other for several long seconds, before Sophia tore her gaze away and wandered over to the table. She reached out a hand and softly stroked her fingertip along the line of the baby's cheek, her grin widening as the child broke off from her formula only long enough to flash her with a gummy smile in return.

"And goodnight to you too, little one," she cooed, her tone soft and motherly as she stooped to toy with the baby's fine hair, "don't you worry, everything's going to be just fine."

Dean arched a brow, mystified by Sophia's words, but beyond offering her a polite 'goodnight', he remained silent. As Sophia's quiet footfalls receded up the stairs, Sam whipped around to stare at Jo and Dean and their newest guest once more.

"Okay, so... have I walked into an alternate reality or something?" Sam asked, panic rapidly setting in as he stared at the two mystified hunters. "Did Gabriel do this? Is someone in here from the future, or... I mean, is it yours?"

He frowned at Dean, suddenly struck by a horrifying thought, "Did some one night stand leave it on the doorstep or something? Please, please tell me it's not yours."

Dean looked suitably affronted by the implication, and Jo simply rolled her eyes as she pressed a kiss to her boyfriend's cheek and approached Sam with a reassuring smile.

"It's my friend's baby," Jo stated, planting her hands on her hips as she added, "not ours, not from the future, not part of some crazy angel dream sequence, and not the spawn of some cheap bar chick, okay?"

Sam swallowed hard and nodded, taking a seat around the table as Dean hoisted the infant over his shoulder and began to burp her. The baby belched on demand, and Dean sniggered to himself.

"Like a champ."

Sam shook his head, almost as confused as when he first arrived home, and he watched Dean closely, eyes wide at the bizarrely domestic scene he had happened upon.

"Okay, so it's your friend's baby and you guys have it..."

"Her..." Dean supplied.

"Her," Sam corrected himself, "why?"

Jo handed Sam the letter, turning and blinking in surprise as she found Dean was standing next to her, poised to place the sleepy child in her arms.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Jo balked, her expression suitably terrified as he simply tsked under his breath and gently eased the tiny baby into her unwilling charge.

"I need to take a leak, Jo," he explained, his voice dropping as he realised that the baby's eyelids were fluttering tellingly, and her fingers began to drift towards her mouth as she sought something to suck on to soothe herself to sleep.

"But… Sam could…" Jo deflected, shooting a desperate look at Sam, who shook his head vehemently and backed up a few paces.

"She's already settled, wouldn't want to disturb her," said Sam quickly, his grin almost smug as Jo glared at him.

"I'll be back in five," Dean replied, planting a gentle kiss on Jo's forehead before heading out of the kitchen, treading lightly so as to avoid disturbing Sadie. He turned and regarded Jo over his shoulder, calling out teasingly, "Just don't look her directly in the eyes and you'll be fine."

Jo rolled her eyes, sighing as she leaned her head back against the chair, her whole body tense as she held the baby carefully to her as though the infant was made of glass. Finally, Jo looked up as she felt Sam's gaze upon her, and she found the youngest Winchester peering at her analytically with his head cocked to one side.

"Huh," Sam merely observed, the corners of his lips twitching.

"What?" Jo demanded testily, wincing as the baby startled in her arms, both hands flying up to her little face, but thankfully did not wake. Once her eyelids had closed again, Sam dared to speak.

"That's a good look for you, Jo," he said, no hint of teasing present in his tone or upon his face. Jo's head shot up, and she glared at Sam through narrowed eyes.

"Shut up, Sam."

Jo remained frozen in position until Dean returned, and though she quickly tried to pass the sleeping baby back, Dean deftly avoided it by busying himself with other tasks.

"Alright, first things first," Dean began, pulling his shirt over his head to Sam's relieved nod, "now, we need to track down this James guy, Sammy fire up the laptop and put on some fresh coffee. I'm gonna go find this kid something to sleep in."

Jo's eyes widened as she watched him pull on his boots and retrieve the lock-up key for one of the outer storage sheds from the rack.

"You can't leave me here... like this," Jo hissed, gesturing down to the sleeping baby who was snoring peacefully, unaware of the bickering now going on around her.

"Sweetheart, would you relax?" Dean guffawed, "babies are like dogs, they can smell fear. Just sit tight, I'll be right back."

Jo's mouth dropped open to protest, but Dean ignored her and stalked toward the door, and a blast of cold air suddenly filled the room as he walked out into the snow. Sadie started in her sleep at the sensation of the cold air blowing across her cheeks, and Jo pulled her closer to her chest in response, stroking a hand across the infant's downy hair to soothe her. Sam watched from a safe distance, his smirk thankfully hidden behind the raised screen of his laptop. As if sensing his sniggers, Jo rolled her eyes and stared at him expectantly, the traces of a teasing smile now tugging at her own lips.

"So, how did your date go, Sam?" she crooned. Sam simply cleared his throat and disappeared behind his computer, leaving Jo smiling triumphantly. "Uh-huh, that's what I thought."

Jo Harvelle was not one to take prisoners. Even with a baby in her arms.


	35. Chapter 35

_**Episode 12 – Part 2**_

'_**Hello Darkness, My Old Friend'**_

_**x-x-x**_

The cradle was the darkest mahogany that Jo could ever recall seeing, and she ran the tip of one index finger reverently over the smooth lines of the bars. Age had not sullied the beauty of the intricate roses carved into the headboard of the crib, which were as breath-taking in their detail as they had been the day that Bill Harvelle's hand had formed them. Beneath the base board, below where the mattress lay, the man who would always be a hunter foremost and a father second, had added a series of protection symbols engraved deep into the wood.

For many, many years, the cradle had remained in the Harvelle storage locker, only seeing the light of day once again when Dean and Sam had cleared out the locker shortly after Ellen's death. Dean had also uncovered a small box of baby clothes, which he had squirrelled away in the outside storage shed, unbeknownst to Jo, alongside her old crib. At the time, he had assumed that Jo was still too early on in the grieving process to face such discoveries; an evaluation that Sam had agreed with wholeheartedly. Largely due to her intense dislike of anything eight-legged, Jo had yet to uncover the treasures from her past that Dean had rescued, and thus she was rendered almost breathless at the sight of the cradle when Dean hauled it in from the yard. He had cleaned it up quietly, his calloused fingers polishing the bars almost tenderly with a cloth as Jo watched from the kitchen table.

Now, not lifting her gaze from the book laid out before her, Jo gently pushed her foot up and down on the glider of the cradle, as Sadie lay nestled in her plush pink blankets, in a deep slumber.

The rhythmic rolling of the wood against the floorboards was slowly lulling all three hunters into a similarly sleepy haze, and Dean busied himself with refilling their coffee mugs as they each fought off yawns.

Leaning carefully over Jo to top up her now lukewarm coffee, Dean cast a sideways glance at the baby, glad to see Jo had at least overcome her initial aversion to their young house guest.

Sam watched his brother out of the corner of his eye, smiling to himself as he considered his sibling's deep rooted longing for a home and family of his own. Though Dean sniggered and apparently mocked the concept of a cookie cutter, apple pie life, Sam knew him well enough to be able to see through his bravado. Hunting was in their blood, and Sam could not envision a time when Dean would want to turn his back on the 'family business', but Dean had always yearned for the simple life, or as close to it as they would be allowed to come. It was evident in his ease with the child in their care, and in the way he shot Jo subtle, sidelong smiles whenever she held the baby. Sam watched it all with fascination, his lips quirking as he began to see traces of the paternal figure he recalled in Dean resurfacing.

Sam stifled a yawn, breaking his gaze from the newspaper articles he poured over as he rubbed at his eyes with balled up fists. Dean shot him a look, and Sam's smile was immediately apologetic. He was all too aware of just what his brother would do to him should he abandon them in their current predicament, and so Sam wordlessly sucked down another half cup of coffee before turning his bleary gaze back to the newspaper.

"Anything?" Jo inquired softly, her tone strained and obviously brimming with concern. She shot an anxious glance at Dean, and he shook his head. Jo's frown was immediate, and Sam could see from the way that her fingertips drummed on the tabletop and her back remained erect, she was worried about her old friend.

"Have you tried Emily's cell again?" Sam asked, shooting Jo what he hoped was a reassuring smile, although he could not be certain given his levels of fatigue.

Jo nodded, chewing on her lip as she replied, "Every quarter hour since we found the rugrat. Nothing. Just goes straight to voicemail. I must have left a dozen messages by now."

Pausing, as if the words she were about to speak caused her physical pain, Jo glanced up at the brothers, "What if she's..."

"We'll find her," Dean reassured her, holding her troubled gaze and smiling at her until she too consented to smile.

The baby squirmed and suddenly began batting chubby fists at her nose, as her squeals became an irritable cry.

Smirking as she tossed a burp cloth at Sam, Jo crooned, "Your turn, Uncle Sammy."

"But..." Sam grimaced in response, realising that his protests would fall on deaf, similarly exhausted ears. He hesitantly stood from his seat and made his way over to the cradle, bending to pick the baby up with obvious trepidation.

"Dean, I'm gonna drop her," he exclaimed, frowning as he struggled to hold the squirming infant across his outstretched arms.

Dean rolled his eyes and cast his brother a decidedly withering gaze, "Hold her like a football."

"What?" Sam's eyes widened uncertainly, and he slowly turned the baby in his arms and held her against his chest.

Sadie snuggled into his warmth and emitted a yawn that passed her lips as nothing but a high pitched squeak.

"Now what?" Sam pressed, looking to both the hunters for direction. Werewolves, vampires, demons, and shifters he could manage; a baby was a totally different proposition.

"I don't know, maybe she needs a diaper change?" Jo suggested flippantly, taking a long, slow chug of coffee.

Sam visibly paled, and he stared back at her in horror.

"But... what if it's... poopy?"

Dean snorted and looked up from the tome he had been scanning only long enough to exhibit a teasing smirk, "Are we really gonna start using the word 'poopy' now?!"

"Doesn't matter how you label it, Sam… it's not cute," Jo chimed in, exchanging a smirk with Dean, who turned back to the pages of his book to hide the true extent of his amusement. Sam glowered at Jo, muttering under his breath as he swiped up a diaper bag and stormed into the lounge.

"Don't expect me to babysit when you guys procreate," Sam yelled over his shoulder, mildly disappointed that he would not witness the horrified reaction he was certain Jo would display to his taunt.

"Hey… don't just go throwing words like 'procreate' around…" Jo said, horror evident in her wide eyed gaze. Dean let out a snort of amusement, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face deeper in the research book.

Sighing in irritation that was more so directed at their predicament, Jo stood from her chair and stretched her arms above her head, trying to work out the knot that had settled in her neck muscles.

Dean similarly fidgeted in his seat, and he rubbed his weary eyes as he tried to focus his vision on the seemingly endless pages laid out in front of him.

He looked up sharply as Jo slid her arms around his neck, and she pressed her cheek against his as she hugged him tightly.

Dean swept his hand up and down her arm, leaning his head back against her chest and taking the opportunity to close his eyes, if just for a moment.

"This sucks," Jo sighed, her fingers tracing over his chest as she fought desperately to stay awake.

"That it does, sweetheart," Dean agreed, a slow, deep breath leaving his body as Jo began to comb her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner.

Sam returned seconds later, clutching a now burbling Sadie in one arm as he deposited a used diaper into the trash with his other hand. Dean's eyes opened and scanned his brother's face, amused to see his complexion was looking decidedly green.

"Everything okay, Sammy boy?" Dean asked, watching as his brother sat back down at the table, baby balanced in one arm as he typed furiously at the laptop keys with the other.

Recalling the sheer horror that had met him in the contents of the diaper, Sam's face was stoic. "I don't want to talk about it."

"That bad, huh?" Jo queried, her expression one of feigned innocence as she watched Sam swallow down the bile that had risen in his throat at the mere memory of the diaper change he had just faced.

"It… I mean… up her back… and…" Sam trailed off, simply shaking his head, his expression one of pure bewilderment. Dean hid a snigger behind his coffee mug and shook his head at his younger brother's decidedly weak stomach. It amused him no end that Sam could tolerate all manner of blood, gore and entrails splattered over a crime scene, and yet the fluids that leaked out of a baby had sent him into a near catatonic state.

"I'm not doing the next one," Sam stated, his tone defiant as he stared at first his chuckling brother, and then Jo. Peeved at their obvious amusement, Sam stood up and thrust the baby into Jo's arms.

"Hey, I took my turn," Jo protested, although she grinned at the baby, who was slapping at her collar bone whilst peering up into her face with evident interest.

"Wait a minute," Sam said suddenly, and all three hunters assembled around the laptop as he scrolled slowly through the news item dated from only two months before.

Dean quirked an eyebrow as he read slowly through the text, indicating that three colleagues of James Van Dolen had apparently committed suicide in separate incidents. It was not a stretch for Dean to assume from recent developments that their deaths all shared a distinctly supernatural twist.

"What a coincidence," Jo drawled disbelievingly, screwing up her nose as she felt the baby leave a trail of drool across her neck.

Sam stabbed the 'print' button, and instantly the printer in the room behind the bar whirred into life.

"I'm gonna read over this a couple more times, see if anything stands out," Sam stated, rising from his seat to retrieve his printouts.

Dean yawned and rubbed the back of his neck wearily, "Well, I think it's time I hit the hay. You comin', sweetheart?"

Jo bobbed her head in ready agreement, too tired to even think beyond a good night's rest before they resumed their research in the morning. It was already a little after 4 am, and Jo was finding it increasingly difficult to force her eyes open.

Dean gestured over toward the crib and smiled, "You bring up our new roomie and I'll grab her digs."

Jo shot a glance at the crib, her brow furrowing in the next instant and a frown dominating her delicate features. She recalled the numerous stories her mother had told her about her apparent aversion to sleep as an infant, and how her penchant for waking at every hour chime of the clock had almost driven Ellen insane for the first six months of her life. Peering down at the gurgling baby in her arms, Jo began to wonder just how much sleep would actually be on the cards in the immediate future.

**x-x-x**

Dean rolled over, only half asleep really, and let out a low, discontent grumble as his right arm reached out for his girlfriend, only to find her space in the bed empty. Propping himself up on his elbows, Dean squinted at the alarm clock positioned on the bedside table, noting that it was just past 6 am, and thus too early for Jo to have considered rising. Like Dean, Jo preferred to retire late in the evening, and wake around the time that regular folks were headed out to work. It was one of the few perks that went hand in hand with being hunters and running a bar, and one that Jo often waxed lyrical about. Therefore, frowning, Dean rolled out of bed, and padded across the landing towards the staircase.

He could already see shafts of light spilling out from under the kitchen doorway, and so Dean pushed it open without a second thought, his mouth gaping at what he saw.

Jo sat round the small kitchen table, with Sadie clutched to her chest and a bottle in her right hand. The infant's eyes were half closed, but she continued to suck noisily on the teat, her stomach gurgling as it filled with warmed formula. Jo had wrapped the baby in a blanket, and the infant's tiny hands peeped out of the folds, her fingers twitching as she lingered in a blissful state half way between waking and sleeping. However, after several seconds, Sadie's eyes closed, and she stopped suckling, although the teat of the bottle remained clamped between her gums. Jo frowned, pulling the bottle from the child's mouth, only for her to instantly hiccup awake and begin squalling.

"Here, let me," Dean offered, causing Jo to jolt in her seat as he stepped fully into the kitchen. She offered him a smile, although the action was disrupted by the immediate arrival of a wide yawn.

"How long have you been trying to feed her?" Dean inquired softly, taking the baby from Jo's arm and transferring her into his own. She settled against his chest but did not quiet, her eyes now wide open as she searched for her bottle. Dean pressed the teat to her lips and the child sucked it in hungrily. She continued to gulp down milk for several seconds, however, soon her eyelids began to flutter again as her own exhaustion threatened to claim her.

"She keeps doing that," Jo stated, mildly irritated, "then as soon as you take it away, she screams."

Dean nodded, his eyes still on the baby as he replied, "Watch and learn, sweetheart."

As Sadie's eyes closed again, Dean tapped sharply on the bottom of the bottle with his index finger, and her eyelids snapped open almost straight away. She renewed her efforts at sucking, and this continued for the remaining ten minutes that it took Dean to feed her the entire bottle. Jo watched, half impressed, half annoyed.

She peered at him closely, still surprised by just how comfortable he was around the child. It was a surreal sight; Dean Winchester, bad ass hunter, making googly faces at a baby. Yet Jo realised there was so much more to Dean than first impressions betrayed. He had in effect raised Sam when he had been no more than a child himself, and he had spent his entire adult life watching over his brother in a way that exceeded the bonds of normal siblings.

Jo smiled sleepily, rolling her eyes as she cringed at the words about to leave her lips.

"You want one of them, don't you?" she stated rather than asked.

Dean shrugged non-committally, as if the thought had not occurred to him.

"I don't know... maybe one day," he nodded hesitantly, finding her gaze as he added quietly, "with you."

Jo stared down at her toes, trying to focus on the small chip she found in her nail polish in an attempt to lessen the panic she felt may possibly overcome her.

Dean cleared his throat before she had time to formulate a reply, "You go on back to bed. I've got this."

Not needing to be told twice, Jo gratefully nodded and stood from her seat.

"Okay, but... don't be too long," she said softly, leaning over him as she passed his chair to press a kiss to his cheek. She hugged him a little longer than was necessary and then padded slowly out of the room toward the stairs

Dean sighed as he gazed down at the sleeping baby in his arms, and added with a wry smile, "You gotta start making a better impression, kid."

As though in response, Sadie let out a hearty sigh in her sleep that wracked her entire body and Dean found his own grin only intensifying. He thought he could certainly get used to night wakings, early mornings, and spit up on his Zeppelin shirt, if the circumstances were right. Fatherhood was not a prospect that Dean Winchester considered often; after all, the life expectancy of a hunter rarely allowed for the actual putting down of roots nor the available time to cultivate a healthy relationship with anyone other than a chiropractor. However, the recent months, living with Jo at the roadhouse and still managing to hunt successfully, had planted a seed of hope in Dean that one day, maybe many years in the future, they would finally carve up their own little slice of apple pie.

With these thoughts in mind, Dean made his way quietly back upstairs, where he settled Sadie in her crib before joining Jo back in their bed. For several more hours, he dreamed things that would surely set his girlfriend quaking in her boots.

**x-x-x**

Pausing outside the bedroom doorway, Sophia listened intently to the sounds, or lack thereof, coming from the other side of the door.

Hearing nothing but the early morning gurgling of their new guest, the woman knocked lightly and gingerly pushed the door open when she received no response.

She averted her gaze from the couple sprawled across each other in the bed, and instead crept toward the crib.

"Good morning, little one," she whispered, beaming down at the child as the infant first scrutinised the new face to appear over her, and then squealed happily as she kicked her legs in anticipation.

"Let's let them sleep, huh? It's breakfast time!" she said softly, lifting the child and carrying her deftly from the room.

Dean and Jo slept on, exhausted beyond belief, and cocooned in a blissful slumber.

An hour later and Jo sat up groggily in bed, rubbing at her eyes as they stung and burned with weariness. Sighing, she cast a glance at the crib and was suddenly on her feet at the sight that befell her.

"Crap!" she exclaimed, turning and grabbing Dean's arm, which she violently shook, "Dean! Dean, wake up!"

He mumbled in response, turning over and burying his face in the pillow in an effort to muffle her insistent pleas.

"Dean! The baby's gone!"

That announcement seemed to spur him to life, and seconds later, he rolled to the floor in a tangle of bedsheets.

"What? How can she be gone?" he demanded, leaning his arms on the mattress as he hauled himself up and de-tangled himself from the offending covers.

But Jo was already out the door, running down the hallway with a decidedly panicked feeling rising from the pit of her stomach.

Dean caught up with her, about to try and rationalise the situation again when the sound of a baby's laughter assailed them.

Exchanging glances, the couple raced down the stairs side by side, breaking into the kitchen only to find Sophia sitting round the table, sipping a mug of coffee, whilst simultaneously balancing Sadie on one knee. Dean stared wide eyed, taking in the woman's easy smile and unconcerned look with a degree of envy. She certainly seemed at ease in the baby's presence, and was bouncing her gently up and down much to the child's amusement like a seasoned pro.

"Hey, coffee's in the pot," Sophia stated, smiling as she glanced up to find Dean and Jo staring at her. "Did you guys sleep well?"

"No," they answered in perfect unison, both shuffling into the kitchen in search of the coffee that Sophia had promised.

"You both looked so exhausted, I hope you don't mind, but she was awake, and I figured I'd let you sleep in a little," Sophia explained, suddenly rising from the table and moving to deposit the baby in Jo's arms. Surprisingly, Dean noted that Jo did not even attempt to resist, accepting the baby with an expression on her face that smacked of relief. She even managed to flash the infant a smile, albeit a somewhat tired one.

Sitting down in the nearest chair, Jo released a trio of yawns, before she carefully balanced the baby on her knee, and took a sip of the coffee Sam pushed in her direction.

"These things are exhausting," she stated, blowing out a breath as she added, "we need to figure this case out and get this kid back to Emily, because this is just... so not cool."

"Amen to that," Dean agreed, rubbing his hands over his face and trying to shake himself awake.

Sophia smiled sympathetically, "She's had her breakfast, and a diaper change, and I found her an outfit from one of the change bags, I hope that was okay?"

"That's great," Jo nodded, smiling gratefully at her employee, and new friend, "thanks for taking care of her. I guess we were pretty out of it."

Sophia shrugged and began to pull her long hair up into a ponytail as she prepared to open up the bar, "No problem." She bent down and waved at the baby, who gurgled and kicked her legs in happy reply, "See you later, sweetie."

His head resting on his arms on the table, Dean didn't even bother to glance up as he instead pointed in Sophia's direction and slurred, "Sammy, you marry that girl."

"And make… those?" Sam demanded askance, shooting a faintly disgusted look at Sadie as he added, "no thanks. I'm happy dipping my toe in the dating pool."

Sadie let out a loud burp in apparent agreement, and Jo giggled despite the intense fatigue she felt clinging to her body.

"So, there's a dating pool now?" Dean inquired, feigning innocence as he shot Sam a look, which his brother deflected by burying his head back in the morning paper.

"What's the plan of action for today?" interjected Jo, eager not to be caught up in an infamous Winchester spat, and instead to press on with the case. Whilst she had to admit, although somewhat grudgingly, that Sadie was cute, the infant was playing havoc with her sleeping patterns, and Jo was keen for that at least to come to a speedy end.

"I have an address for James Van Dolen, and one for a Mrs. Faith Jones in Omaha."

"Emily's mom," Jo interjected, leaning forwards in her seat and looking immediately hopeful. Dean also appeared to brighten, flashing a smile at the baby, who babbled on oblivious.

"Ok, so we'll hit up James first, scope out the situation, and then head over to Emily's mother's house," Dean suggested, shooting Sam a querying look.

"Why James Van Dolen first?" Jo pressed, shifting Sadie onto her opposing knee as the baby made an almost successful swipe for her coffee mug.

Dean rose from his seat, striding across the kitchen as two slices of fresh toast popped up from the toaster.

"Sooner we eliminate whatever the hell it is that's got Emily so spooked, sooner we can give her the kid back and everybody lives happily ever after," he stated, haphazardly buttering the toast before lifting up both slices in his hands.

He paused behind Jo and presented a slice at her eye level, but quickly snatched it back as she leant back to look up at him.

Grinning to himself he took the opportunity to press a kiss against her lips, smiling down at her as he began their belated morning greeting.

"Mornin'," he said softly, his smile increasing as Jo replied in kind and slid her hand around the back of his neck to usher him closer for another kiss.

"Thanks," she beamed, accepting the breakfast offering and biting into it enthusiastically.

"Sammy and I will check this dude out." He chewed and swallowed a mouthful before Jo could interrupt, "Guy's met you, so..."

Jo nodded her agreement, glancing down at Sadie, who was watching her chew on her toast with an obvious sense of fascination. Her tiny mouth was open wide and a trail of drool seeped out across her chin.

"Ok, guess I'll stick around here and hold down the fort," Jo conceded, slurping her coffee and jiggling Sadie on her knee the way she had seen Sophia do only minutes before. The baby hiccupped, then burbled in appreciation, one set of chubby fingers curling around the neck of Jo's tank top and pulling it down.

"Good girl," Dean said, grinning in approval at the baby, who was oblivious to anything but the toast Jo held in her hand. She initiated an uncoordinated swipe at Jo's breakfast, grunting in irritation as the hunter pulled it just out of her reach.

"Pervert," Jo poked her tongue out, gently prying the infant's hand from her clothing and turning her around.

"Well, I figure she owes me for crashing our little couch party last night," Dean smirked, watching as Jo snorted with laughter around the mouthful of toast she was chewing.

Dean downed the last dregs of his coffee before standing up and reaching out his hands toward the baby. Sadie looked at him almost shyly before she began to bounce and coo up at the hunter in anticipation of being picked up.

Jo rolled her eyes, handing over the child with a wry smile of amusement, "There really isn't a girl alive who's immune to your charms, huh?"

"Oh, you know it sweetheart," he winked playfully, leaning over her until their noses almost touched, and Jo instigated a series of short yet tender kisses.

The baby squealed indignantly at suddenly no longer being the centre of attention, and Dean drew back and hoisted her up against his chest muttering 'jealous women' under his breath.

"Alright, rugrat, let's go freak out Uncle Sammy," he snickered, "hope you got a little spit up saved there."

Jo laughed and leant back in her chair, stifling a yawn as she crossed her legs and then propped her elbow on the table to survey the kitchen. An array of baby clothes and feeding bottles, cans of formula, jars of odd coloured puree, toys, stacks of diapers and pink fluffy blankets greeted her.

She had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

**x-x-x**

Having found the Van Dolen's sprawling country home in Wyoming seemingly devoid of life, and without a single car parked in its expansive driveway, the Winchesters had headed over to the offices of the 'Myers, Joseph, & Fisher' law firm where James Van Dolen had been a Criminal Defence Attorney since graduating from Stanford Law ten years before.

Sam peered up at the tall, multi-storey building, which was occupied solely by the law offices, his mind somewhat preoccupied by the series of 'what ifs' and 'could have beens' playing out in his head. Perhaps sensing his brother's train of thought, Dean appeared behind Sam and clapped him on the shoulder with one large hand, jarring Sam from his reverie. As Sam turned to regard his older brother, Dean wordlessly thrust a takeout coffee mug into his hand, and surveyed the building himself with his keen gaze.

"I guess this must be kind of weird for you," Dean stated, deciding it was perhaps best to address Sam's discomfort in favour of simply attempting to bury it beneath the case as they once would have done. Sam gave the slightest shrug of his shoulders, taking a sip of his coffee and immediately regretting it as the liquid burned a layer of skin from his upper lip.

"I guess," he finally replied, his eyes watering as he pressed his finger to his lip, which continued to tingle unpleasantly.

He smiled wryly and arched an eyebrow in his brother's direction, "Not as weird as watching you and Jo play house."

Dean shrugged, jamming his hand in his pocket as he stared down at the rim of his own coffee cup. Anything to avoid Sam's gaze.

"Yeah, well... we're hunters, Sammy, and Winchesters to boot. Might not get around to it in real life."

The sadness in his brother's voice surprised him, and the resignation with which he had obviously determined his own fate. They remained in an uncomfortable silence until Sam smiled weakly, knowing that below the surface Dean could occasionally be the secret optimist.

"You don't really believe that crap?!" Sam guffawed, blinking and shaking his head, "that's a pretty depressing way to look at things, Dean, I mean... even for you."

Dean swallowed a sip of coffee, wincing at the bitter after taste as his gaze followed two men entering the building, neither of whom appeared to be their guy.

Shaking his head and braving another mouthful of the beverage, Dean tried to brush off his brother's unnervingly fixed gaze, "Anyway, Jo's not real big on the whole kids thing, and... maybe it's for the best. I don't know, not sure I'm exactly 'Father of the year' material."

Sam pursed his lips, thinking back on a conversation he and Cas had had a little over a year before, when the angel had revealed to him vague details of his brother's future; a future that most certainly involved Jo Harvelle and the pitter-patter of little hunter feet.

"I think she'll come around," Sam said, gathering his thoughts before he added sincerely, "and... I think you'd be a pretty great Dad. I mean, I turned out okay, right?!"

Dean cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the sentimental road the conversation seemed to be headed down.

"Shall we?" he dumped his coffee cup in a nearby trash can, and nodded up towards the office building.

Sam rolled his eyes, following on after him in exasperation, "Sure."

Dean and Sam breezed into the lobby, the tails of their trench coats billowing as they walked, oblivious to the apparently heightened police presence, which consisted of a single marked patrol car and a couple of uniformed officers milling about the foyer. Sam strode straight up to the long, metal desk and arched an eyebrow in greeting at the receptionist, whose gaze ticked nervously to the FBI badge that Sam offered to her.

"Are you… I guess you're here about the uh…" the woman looked around her uncertainly, wrapping her arms around her midsection as she leaned forwards and hissed, "body."

Sam looked startled, although he attempted to hide it behind a curt nod of his head. Unfortunately, this was at the exact same moment that Dean chose to shake his.

"No…" he began, supressing a yell as Sam stamped on the instep of his foot with one, heavy sasquatch-like appendage. Dean resisted the urge to dance on the spot in pain, glaring at his brother's back with narrowed eyes that belayed his fury.

"Yes, which floor?" Sam inquired, his smile polite as he listened to the receptionist direct them to the apparent scene of the latest crime. She affixed Dean with a final, somewhat suspicious look, although she glanced away quickly as he challenged her gaze with a quirked brow.

Dean jogged a little in order to match pace with Sam, who was already poised in front of the single elevator in the lobby, stabbing at the button impatiently.

"We got another stiff?" asked Dean, his voice low. One hand slid into the holster he wore around his shoulder, carefully concealed within his coat, and Dean rechecked the safety catch on his handgun for assurance.

"Looks like," Sam replied, stepping into the elevator as the doors swung open with a soft shushing sound. "What are you willing to bet that James Van Dolen is our Talented Mr. Ripley?"

"Our what?" Dean demanded, his nose wrinkled as he stared at Sam. His expression was one of evident confusion, and Sam could not help but roll his eyes at his brother's poor knowledge of some of the greatest cinematic works of their time.

"He killed the dude," hissed Sam, shaking his head at his brother, whose eyes widened.

"Woah, woah, woah," he exclaimed, waving both hands emphatically at Sam, "let's not go throwing accusations around, Sammy. Dude's got a wife and kid."

"Since when does that make someone a good person?" Sam challenged, his features drawn into a mask of stoicism as the elevator suddenly dinged to alert them that they had reached the third floor. As the doors slid open, Sam slipped out into the hallway followed by his brother, who straightened the knot on his navy blue tie as they approached the end of the long, straight corridor.

"It doesn't," Dean argued, lowering his voice and nodding curtly to two passing police officers, "but this guy has a wife and kid, so let's just try and figure this out without having to cut anybody's head off, okay?"

Sam winced, drawing to an abrupt halt as he regarded his brother in obvious confusion, "Dean, that's usually your kind of plan, not mine."

Dean pursed his lips, shrugging with the ghost of a smile playing across his lips, "Look, all I'm saying is, let's not gank the dude if we can help it."

"We don't even know he's involved yet, and even if he is... we don't know it's anything supernatural," Sam countered, his eyes widening as they drew to an abrupt pause at the crime scene before them.

Blood coated all four walls of the office, and something that looked suspiciously like entrails and slivers of skin were hanging from light fixtures and chair backs.

Sam turned his head and tried not to gag, whilst Dean slammed his hand over his mouth and stared at his feet until the sudden wave of nausea had dissipated enough for him to speak.

"You were saying, Sammy?!"

Sam stared in horror at the office, checking the brass plaque on the door as he swallowed down the unmistakable stench of blood. The metallic odour burned the back of his nose and throat, and he exhaled slowly, trying to hold his breath as much as possible.

"I guess this is Matt Planer..."

Dean bobbed his head, arching an eyebrow as he cast his gaze around the bloodied room, "Most of him."

A man ensconced in a grey pinstripe suit wandered past the office with his head down and one clenched fist in front of his mouth, obviously attempting to block out the sights, sounds, and stenches emanating from the room of his colleague, which had now become a crime scene. He attempted to scuttle past the yellow tape barrier across the doorway, but Dean quickly stepped in front of him, barring his path.

"Excuse me, sir," Dean said quietly, already extending his fake FBI badge to the man, who scanned it rapidly before nodding, "just a few questions if you could spare a moment."

"Of course," the man replied, swallowing hard in an obvious effort not to gag, "could we maybe… over there…"

"Right here's good," Dean replied without missing a beat, having figured that his latest interviewee would likely give more succinct answers should he be eager to escape the area.

"You know the victim?" Dean barked, eyebrows raised as he glared at the man pointedly to hasten his reply.

"Uh, yeah, yeah... uh, Matt, sure I know him," he swallowed hard, "knew him."

"He have any enemies? Anybody who'd want to hurt him?" Sam asked, flipping open a notebook with his pen poised to jot down notes.

The man shook his head helplessly, rubbing his forehead with this hand as he tried to gulp down the tears he felt pricking at his eyes at the memory of his colleague and friend.

"Matt? No. He was a straight up good guy. Everybody liked Matt, you know?!" he replied honestly. "Is uh, is there anything else, cos... I need to call my shrink. Oh, man, this is... this is just..."

Dean glowered, his sympathy obviously waning.

"Yeah, this must be real tough on you," he said curtly.

"What about his personal life?" Sam asked, "he happy?"

The man laughed briefly, momentarily forgetting his current location and the clot of blood clinging to his shoe.

"Oh, well gee let's see, dating a lingerie model, check," he mimed ticking off each point on his fingers, "seriously sweet penthouse apartment, check, and about to make partner before 30, check."

"If you're into that kind of thing," Dean muttered absently, exchanging exasperated glances with Sam as the man began to gag incessantly, "alright, you... get out of here."

The man nodded vehemently, poised to scuttle away as Dean called out to him again, "Hold up. You know where we can find Mr. James Van Dolen?"

The lawyer frowned, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he replied, "Sorry. I think he took off for a client meeting somewhere."

"Can we find out where?" Dean pressed, frowning as he noted the man's skin beginning to adopt a decidedly greenish hue. The hunter could no longer smell the stench of blood and entrails from the room, but he presumed that was an occupational hazard of the job.

"His secretary should know, I guess," the lawyer answered, before shooting a final glance into the devastated office, then slapping a palm over his mouth before literally sprinting down the corridor.

"Thank you!" Dean called out after his rapidly retreating form.

**x-x-x**

Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as the Impala slowly inched up the dirt track toward the roadhouse. He frowned as he noted the number of cars and trucks parked outside, squinting in the growing dusk at the stream of figures pouring in and out of the bar.

He cocked an eyebrow at his brother and grinned, "I'd get in there if I were you, Sammy boy, looks like Sophia's broken out that little elf costume again."

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's snickers, although his movements to exit the car and trudge through the thick snow were perhaps a little quicker than he had initially planned.

Dean chuckled, following his brother into the bar and instantly frowning as a gaggle of assembled hunters all turned in their direction.

"What the..." he began, searching out Jo, who was standing with Sadie on her hip as two elderly, retired hunters made goo-goo noises at the chuckling infant.

Jo looked up and the smile that instantly settled on her face made Dean's heart flutter in his chest.

Jostling his way through the throng of patrons, he reached his girlfriend's side and his hand drifted to rest on the small of her back.

"Hey," he greeted her with an affectionate kiss, chuckling as Jo gently lifted the baby's hand and waved it at him, "hey there, short stuff!"

"Looks like you guys have been having… fun…" Sam stated diplomatically, although he was unable to mask his thoroughly amused smile as he watched Jo jiggle the baby up and down, much to the infant's delight. She let out a squeal followed by a shrill peal of laughter that ended in a snorting sound. Sophia was watching from behind the bar with a knowing look spread across her features, but when Sam caught her eye and offered her a smile, she looked away quickly and almost bashfully.

"Sadie's been spoiled," Jo answered, gesturing behind the bar with a slight inclination of her head to where a cache of mostly used baby items stood neatly in one corner. Sam arched an eyebrow, his eyes sweeping the predominantly older clientele of the bar, which included Bobby, hunkered down in his chair as he shared a beer with an old colleague.

"Yeah, I gave Bobby a call after you guys left, then within a half hour, people were showing up with all this crap," stated Jo, although her smile told the Winchesters that she hardly minded. "Most of it's from their kids or grandkids. Pretty cool, I guess."

"You guess?" Dean inquired innocently, suddenly running his fingers through Sadie's downy hair and pointedly indicating the red elastic band that had drawn the baby's soft waves into an almost ponytail on the top of her head. "Admit it, Harvelle. You've been having a blast playing dress up and looking at baby crap."

Jo grinned, patting Dean's cheek a little harder than necessary as she replied in a sickly sweet tone, "Oh sweetheart… I'd rather die than admit that."

Dean arched an eyebrow, pressing his finger to her lips and leaning in closer, his lips almost brushing hers, "Hey, in our line of work, let's not tempt fate, huh?"

"Fine," Jo murmured, lost in her own anticipation of a kiss.

"Fine," he nodded, finally closing the remaining distance and kissing her tenderly.

Dean drew back as Sadie squealed indignantly, and he frowned at his girlfriend before he gestured to the small ponytail on top of the baby's head.

"Was that really necessary? She looks like Paris Hilton should be carrying her around in a purse."

Jo held up her free hand defensively and shook her head, "Don't look at me, that is not my doing, okay?! You go talk to Bobby and Sophia about... that," she gently flicked her finger across the infant's hair and nodded as Dean glanced across at Bobby with a suitably horrified expression.

His gaze settled on the older man, who was sitting amongst a crowd of his friends as they held up tiny baby clothes and sorted them into age appropriate piles.

"Weren't we meant to be protecting her from scary crap?" Dean asked askance, watching the scene before him with ill-concealed wonderment.

Jo followed his gaze, wincing as she replied, "Welcome to Bobby's baby shower."

Dean smirked, holding his hands out to take the baby from her arms, "Yeah, well let's just hope nobody brought him a breast pump."

Jo snorted with laughter, crossing her arms over her chest as Dean pulled Sadie into his shoulder and proceeded to blow raspberries on one chubby, pink cheek.

"How did it go with James?" inquired Jo, her brows drawing together as she let out a clearly concerned sigh and suddenly slipped into business mode.

Dean paused in his task of deliberately attempting to extract more helpless laughter from the infant, and shot Jo a dark look. She straightened up immediately as he shook his head.

"The dude had split, but not before another of his office buddies had also quite literally split," Dean replied, glancing at Sam, who was standing behind the bar with Sophia and watching Bobby with obvious amusement and yet also horror.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Jo, although her tone suggested she was almost certain that she really did not want Dean to answer her question.

"Let's just say I think a little of his ass is still on the bottom of my shoe," Dean replied, and Jo wrinkled her nose in response and muttered 'gross' at the image the information inspired.

"So, any idea what it is we're dealing with here?" she asked, lowering her voice as she added, "and what it's got to do with the kid?"

"No, we're still feeling around in the dark with this one. Maybe you and I will head on up to Omaha later on, see what Emily's mom has to say about all of this," he suggested, making faces at the baby as he held her aloft at eye level, "yeah, shall we go speak to Grandma? Huh? I think so!"

Jo watched him intently, cocking her head and sighing as she shot him a thoroughly withering expression and he quickly shrank back, clearing his throat self-consciously.

"Alright, so... you and I will go see her folks, Sammy and Santa's Little Helper can take over with babysitting duty," he suggested, chuckling as Jo's expression brightened at the prospect.

"Yes! I love that idea," she agreed, having gone somewhat stir crazy having to sit the initial part of their hunt out.

"Don't take it personally," Dean whispered comically against Sadie's ear, and her eyebrows knit into a frown as she regarded Jo closely, and then crammed her fist into her mouth.

Jo disappeared around the bar, a definite spring in her step, and Dean regarded the baby seriously.

"Just… don't drool on the suit."

**x-x-x**

Several hours and as many outfit changes later, the Impala pulled up outside the home of the Jones family in Omaha, Nebraska, and Jo and Dean knew instantly that something was terribly amiss.

The couple exchanged a brief glance before jumping from the car, barely pausing to slam their respective doors before removing their handguns from the holsters and jogging up the walkway to the front door. The blinds were still closed, concealing the interior of the lounge from view of the outside world, and Dean mentally cursed as he realised that the front door was already ajar.

"Back?" Jo inquired, mouthing the word rather than speak aloud and potentially blow their cover. With a single look, Dean shook his head, gesturing down to the front step, where a few splodges of a suspicious crimson substance marred the concrete.

Jo frowned, her expression worried, but she raised her gun in front of her and kicked the front door fully open with the toe of her boot, proceeding into the hallway like the professional she was.

Immediately, the unmistakable stench of blood burned at her nostrils, and Jo raised her free hand to her face and pressed the back of her hand against her nose. Dean followed after her, gagging back the smell that was intensifying as they made their way gingerly down the hall.

Jo nodded toward the kitchen, and Dean fell into step at her side, both their guns trained in front of them as they stepped through the door and scanned the room. There seemed to be no sign of a disturbance, but Jo noted the presence of two coffee mugs and a carton of creamer on the counter, as if someone had been disturbed before they had a chance to finish their task.

"Living room…" Dean said quietly, leading Jo slowly out of the room.

Something collided with the toe of her boot, and Jo immediately froze and stared down at the carpeted floor to look for the item she had kicked.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, bending down to retrieve the cell phone that she instantly recognised as having belonged to Emily. Sadie's smiling face greeted her from behind a cracked screen, and the smear of blood on the plastic increased Jo's sense of panic.

Dean faltered as he stepped into the living room, and the sodden carpet squelched beneath his feet. Glancing down at his shoes, he swallowed hard as he found himself standing on a blood soaked floor.

Sliding the cell phone into the pocket of her jacket, Jo proceeded with caution into the lounge. Although she held out little hope for what they would find there, her eyes swept the space eagerly as she sought out the slightest indication of Emily's wellbeing. Instead, her gaze fell upon a pair of stocking clad feet poking out from behind the couch.

Jo lowered her weapon and Dean motioned with the nozzle of his own gun to the back of the sofa, indicating that he would provide any necessary cover whilst Jo assessed the apparent victim. However, as Jo peered round the back of the couch, she let out the breath she had been unaware she was holding.

The elderly Mrs. Jones lay sprawled at an unnatural angle, deep jagged cuts adorning both her wrists and ankles, and her throat having been viciously torn open.

Jo wheeled around, already beginning to storm out of the house as she tossed over her shoulder at Dean, "We need to find Emily."


	36. Chapter 36

_**Episode 12 – Part 3**_

'_**Hello Darkness, My Old Friend'**_

_**x-x-x**_

By the time the Impala had pulled back into the parking lot of the roadhouse, Jo was a perfectly poised and composed veritable hunting machine once again. On the car ride she had already copied every one of Emily's contacts into a notepad and systematically begun working her way down the list. She neglected James' number, and Emily's mother's number, both for obvious reasons, but she spoke to hairstylists, babysitters, accountants and colleagues alike in her quest to find her former friend. However, her relentless querying failed to turn up much of anything, aside from a string of women who appeared pissed that Emily had broken play dates, lunch dates, and the like over the last several days.

Jo had then slid the phone into her pocket, and sagged back against her seat, frowning as she mulled over the limited knowledge they had already acquired on the case.

"What are you thinking, Harvelle?" Dean pressed, his voice husky and gentle as he turned off the engine and a hush fell over the occupants of the vehicle. Jo hooked one thumbnail into her mouth and began to nibble on it nervously. It was an old habit that she had largely managed to break herself of during her teenage years, but which sometimes resurfaced in times of stress. Although it had been some years since Jo had last seen Emily in person, the woman had once been a great friend to her, reaching out to her, and helping her to navigate the minefield of college for the semester she had forced herself to stay. Emily had bailed her out of trouble more times than Jo could recollect, and never once judged her for the impressive knife collection stashed under her bed, only listened in awe as Jo regaled her with slightly abridged stories of Bill Harvelle's exploits. The day that Jo had finally worked up the nerve to bail on the college scene, it had been Emily that had worked with her to pack up her entire room and load it onto the back of a transit van. She had waved Jo off with a hearty embrace and tears in her eyes, only after extracting a solemn promise from the blonde that they would stay in touch as the years elapsed.

Feeling her chest grow tighter in a telling fashion, Jo only shrugged, afraid that if she should speak, her voice would break and give way to tears.

Finally, she managed to choke out in a semi-normal tone, "We have to find Em soon. We both know that the first 48 hours are crucial. There's a little girl in there who needs her Mom, and… I don't want to lose another friend, Dean."

Jo blinked back a tear, swatting at her cheek irritably, and she tried to ignore the further flood of emotions that washed over her as Dean reached for her hand and laced their fingers together.

"What do we do if… if she's already dead?" Jo asked, in little more than a whisper, "she has no family left, Dean. What happens to Sadie if…"

"We'll find her," Dean interrupted softly, lifting their joined hands and pressing his lips affectionately to the back of her hand, "and, whatever happens, we keep Sadie safe. Whatever it takes."

Jo nodded miserably, shuffling closer across the seats to hug him tightly. He wrapped an arm around her in response and gathered her closer, kissing the top of her head as he felt her tears fall against the skin of his neck.

"Let's go inside, huh?" his fingers swept through her hair, and she lifted her head and nodded in agreement.

Jo pulled down the visor and examined her cheeks for tear stains. Once she was satisfied her outburst had not left any tell-tale marks, she exited the car and waited for Dean to join her before they walked hand in hand into the roadhouse.

They found themselves instantly met by the sound of a baby crying, and before either had had a chance to so much as blink, Sam appeared before them, obviously flustered and his expression bordering on desperate.

"Thank God!" he began, hefting the screaming child into Dean's arms and looking for all the world as if he were about to lose his mind.

"We fed her, we changed her diaper… but all she does is… is that!" Sam pointed accusingly at the infant, who reeled back against Dean's chest with a hiccupped sob.

Dean rubbed her back and began to bounce her very gently in his arms, and almost at once the crying ceased and the baby stared up at him with a watery smile blossoming.

Jo frowned, reaching out to brush away the baby's tears with her thumb. Her soft, tufty hair was dishevelled, standing up in peaks where fat little fists had swatted at it. Jo smoothed Sadie's hair down, smiling at the softness of the wisps, and the generally fuzzy nature of the infant's head.

"All better now, huh?" Jo said softly, her eyes creasing into a smile the second Sadie reached for her hand and clamped Jo's finger in a tight grip.

Sam blew out a breath between his pursed lips and shook his head, muttering his displeasure.

"I bet she misses her Mommy," Sophia said, her tone uncharacteristically quiet as she appeared from the storeroom with a cloth slung over her shoulder. She began to squirt polish onto the surface of the bar, then set about wiping it away with the towel she clutched as though the weight of the world was upon her shoulders. She kept her head bent low, her posture and gaze both unreadable, and Jo frowned as she watched the usually chipper woman work.

"Sophia, are you…" Jo began, abruptly cutting off as her cell phone began to trill from her pocket. Jo retrieved the cell and stabbed at a button before raising it to her ear, having time to only draw a breath before a vaguely familiar voice greeted her.

"Hunter…" the deep voice crooned, the smile on the man's face reflected in his tone. "I'd like to say it's a pleasure, but I suspect we both know I'd be lying."

"Who is this?" Jo demanded, stepping several paces away from the others so that Sadie's cooing would not be audible to the man.

"Do you really have to ask?" the voice replied, teasing and mirthful.

"James? James Van Dolen?" Jo demanded, her jaw clenching and her head whipping around to stare meaningfully at Dean, who shifted Sadie in his arms before passing her across the bar to Sophia.

"Sophia, could you take Sadie into the kitchen, please?" Dean murmured, offering Sophia a small smile. She accepted the baby and drew her carefully into her chest, before disappearing into the back without a single question or even quirk of her brow, almost as though she sensed Dean's urgency from his simple request alone.

"What have you done with Emily?" Jo demanded, shifting the phone as Dean stood next to her and pressed his cheek to hers to hear the call.

The man laughed, "What have I done with her? I think maybe the question should be what am I going to do with her. Unless…"

Jo felt an ominous surge of nausea rise from the pit of her stomach.

"Unless, what?" she spat, almost too afraid to ask.

"Unless, you bring me the baby," he replied, his tone portraying an element of boredom that somehow made his demand seem even more sinister.

"What baby?" Jo asked, cringing as the demon laughed heartily, and she shot Dean a pointed stare.

"Ohhh, come on now, I think you can do better than that. Let's just cut to the chase here, shall we?! I want the kid, you've got her. So hand her over or…" he laughed, as if contemplating the next few words carefully, "or, I just come and get her myself. Hmmm, actually, maybe I'll just do that. Bag myself a few hunters in the process."

"What do you want with her?" pressed Jo, managing to keep her tone even and devoid of emotion as she spoke, although her hand shook uncontrollably.

"I'm her father," James answered, "she should be with me. And her mother… of course."

Jo shook her head, her eyes darting to Dean's concerned features as she responded, "No, that's not what this is about."

"You know nothing about me," said James, his patience evidently beginning to fray as his voice grew increasingly gruff, "don't presume to tell me what I want with my daughter. She's mine, and you'll give her to me or…"

As the line went silent, Jo's jaw set, and she drummed her fingernails on the side of her cell.

"Or what?" she repeated, challengingly.

"Test me and find out," James bit back, not missing a beat.

"What are you?" Jo snarled, her voice rising. Sam moved behind the bar and closed the door that connected the living area to the roadhouse to ensure that Sophia heard as little of the exchange as possible.

"You'll find out soon enough," the man warned, "I asked you nicely, now I'm taking my daughter back."

The line went dead and Jo and Dean exchanged similarly horrified expressions.

"Emily's dead," Jo stated, as if not even doubting the truth behind her words, "she's already dead, Dean."

He swallowed hard, this time not quite managing to counter her claims. The dismissive tone with which the demon had moved on from his initial bargain had been all too telling and, much like his girlfriend, Dean now suspected the worst.

"Sammy!" Dean bellowed, starting slightly as his brother appeared at his side within seconds, having been privy to Jo's conversation with James Van Dolen.

"Right here," Sam said gravely, already anticipating Dean's words, "I'll call Bobby."

Dean nodded, staring down thoughtfully at the ground before he announced, "Let's get the kid set up in the panic room. Where the hell is Cas?"

Jo shrugged off her jacket, storming over toward the bar door where she hurriedly closed and double bolted it, before heading over to all the windows and quickly pulling down the steel shutters fitted to each frame. The shutters were decorated with devils traps and spells to ward off all manner of supernatural beings, yet the hunters had happily not had reason to utilise these inbuilt defences previously.

Sophia appeared, the baby balanced on her hip, and she stared knowingly up at each of the hunters in turn, as her hand curled around the baby's leg and she hugged her closer.

"Sophia, if you want to take off, spend a couple of days at your sister's, or…" Dean began, finding himself instantly silenced as Sophia shook her head firmly.

"No, I'm staying. You guys need my help, and… I'm not letting anything happen to this little girl."

Dean simply nodded at the steely, determined expression in her eyes, and he took the child dutifully from her.

Something in Sophia's eyes caught him off guard, and there was a strange sense of knowing in her gaze that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Sophia…" he began, preparing to inform her of how dangerous circumstances could get, when she shook her head and arched a dark eyebrow in his direction.

"I know exactly what I'm getting myself into, Dean… I knew when I took this job," she said cryptically. The woman suddenly paused, stroking her hand down the back of the baby's head before she glanced up at the startled hunter and offered him a briefly warm smile, "You'll be a great dad one day."

Dean smiled almost sadly, and he shook his head as he stared down at the child in his arms, "I don't think…"

Sophia watched him intently, closing her eyes and opening them slowly as the image of the man before her shifted by a degree, and the blue eyed infant in his arms momentarily became a gurgling, brown eyed baby girl. Opening her eyes, the vision fading, the bar tender grinned emphatically.

"I know," Sophia insisted firmly, tossing the apron around her waist onto a nearby table as she turned on her heel to assist Jo. Throwing a teasing, yet kind-hearted smile over her shoulder, she added with a shrug, "She'll have her momma's eyes."

Dean shook his head, trying desperately to locate his senses, which had apparently taken a mini-vacation in light of their employee's bizarre behaviour.

"Wait, what?"

Sophia ignored him, busily helping Jo close and secure the shutters, but she shot Dean a pointed smile that somewhat calmed the sense of unease that had begun to creep over him.

When the last shutter had been drawn, and Sam had bolted the back entrance into their living quarters and also pulled across the metal screen door, Sophia was ushered down to the basement where their homemade panic room was situated. In her arms she clutched Sadie who, oblivious to the drama and sense of mounting panic around her, had succumbed to sleep with one thumb hooked in the corner of her mouth. Before the waitress has disappeared with her charge, Jo had paused in front of the baby just long enough to press a gentle kiss against her soft forehead, and smooth one thumb across her hair.

"I'll take good care of her, Jo," promised Sophia, as she already descended the staircase that led to the basement. Nodding, despite the fact that nobody could see her, Jo pulled the heavy wooden door closed, and listened as the inner lock sealed itself. The door would open now only when Sophia produced the key from the other side.

Finally, Jo came to stand at Dean's side, having already removed the shotgun from behind the bar counter, where it often lay to guard against trouble. Dean was checking his own shotgun, ensuring that the shells were loaded correctly, and that the safety catch had been removed. He afforded Jo a brief glance, but the smile he offered her was forced and seemed all wrong.

"Dean… I…" she murmured, her gaze dipping down to the floor and her eyelids momentarily fluttering closed. Long, blonde lashes obscured her whiskey brown irises, and Jo swallowed so hard that the action became audible. Sam drew up at her side so that the hunters now formed an uneasy line in front of the bar, their weapons drawn, and their stances deadly.

"It'll be ok," Dean vowed, leaning forwards without a second thought and brushing his lips against Jo's cheek in a tender but insistent kiss. Sniffing, she nodded resolutely, recognising that it was neither the time nor the place to allow her emotions to overcome her.

"So now what? We just wait for this thing to show up?" Sam asked, holding the salt-shell loaded shotgun in his hands as he felt a rush of adrenalin surge through his body as it always did prior to a hunt. Although this time, Sam felt distinctly like they were the hunted, and being prey to a murderous and as of yet unknown creature was disconcerting to say the least.

Jo bobbed her head, "I guess so. Cas isn't answering, so it looks like we just gotta sit this out… wait for James, or whatever he is now, to show up."

Sam quieted for a moment, before he glanced up at the blonde with an uncertain expression playing across his features, "So, you met this guy before, right?"

Jo cocked her head, shrugging as she thought back on her one and only meeting with Emily's husband. They had barely exchanged two words, and once the wedding was over, infrequent calls and emails were her only lasting tie to Emily.

"For like, five minutes. Why?"

Dean narrowed his eyes, suddenly understanding his brother's train of thought, and the siblings looked at each other to confirm that they each held the same suspicion.

"And he seemed…?" Dean pressed, arching a brow at Jo.

She gnawed on her lip as she replied, "Normal, I guess. Polite, shy, a little quiet but…"

"Not like there was a latent monster personality lurking beneath the Mr. Right front?" Dean supplied, watching as Jo nodded in agreement, realisation rapidly dawning upon her features .

"No, he was just a regular guy," said Jo, glancing at both Dean and Sam.

"Sam, when did people start dying round this James guy?" Dean inquired, seating himself on the edge of a bar stool and propping his shotgun up between his knees.

"About three months ago," Sam answered after a pause, "vic. was just about to make senior partner at the same law firm."

"So, this is like the whole 'Omen' thing, right? Kid kills off anyone who can stop him getting all the money and power, except in this case, James Van Dolen is the demonic force behind it," Dean speculated.

Jo's eyes widened, as she finally realised the finer points behind the demon's plan, and how it related to the infant they were protecting.

"Emily's family were wealthy, her Dad was a partner in some big software company. With Emily's mom gone, and if…" Jo swallowed hard, unable to finish her sentence, "that just leaves Sadie. Then he gets everything."

"Not gonna happen," Dean said firmly, staring pensively around the room before he began to pace the floorboards.

"Cas? Castiel?" he bellowed, "you wanna get down here?"

When nothing happened, Dean stared up at the ceiling as if peering into the heavens, and his jaw set in anger at their friend's ill-timed absence.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath, about to yell one final time when a strange unearthly rumble suddenly shook the foundations of the bar.

Glasses flew from shelves, and the metal shutters on the window rattled and buckled as a howling wind engulfed the building.

"How the hell did he find us so quickly?" Sam shouted above the noise, as the ground beneath his feet began to shudder and vibrate.

"Guess he has a blood link to the kid," Dean suggested, suddenly freezing in position as the noise stopped, and the wind seemed to cease in an instant.

An unearthly silence fell upon the bar, and the hunters stood poised, their eyes darting to the door and windows as they awaited the dramatic appearance they felt sure was pending.

Seconds later, they were not disappointed, as the main entrance splintered from its hinges and flew inside the bar. The three hunters ducked out of the way of the heavy wood door as it came at them, revealing the figure of a tall, muscular blonde man on the threshold of the doorway. He was still wearing a smart, crisp navy blue suit, with a tie fastened snugly around his neck, although the smirk that manipulated his lips upwards did little to cultivate the image of the respectable businessman he was already attempting.

"Well, hello there," James crooned, moving a step towards the inside of the bar and frowning in evident disappointment as the devil's traps adorning the window shutters prevented him.

"Sorry, you're not welcome here," sneered Jo, cocking her shotgun and levelling it at the demon's chest. He let out a hearty laugh and shook his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest and glaring at the blonde with unmasked hostility.

"I'm here for my daughter," he stated, "hand her over, and I leave without hurting anybody."

"Go back to Hell, you black eyed bastard," Jo growled, her finger hesitating over the trigger of her shotgun. There were no obvious wounds on the body of James Van Dolen and, if they were able to exercise him, Jo knew that assuring his body's safety was paramount.

"Now, is that any way to speak to a friend?" he inquired as he regarded Jo with evident interest.

"You're not my friend," Jo responded quickly, "you've never been my friend."

"No, but Emily was," James countered, his eyes creasing as his smile only widened.

"Was?" Jo faltered, cursing herself the moment she let the demon see her vulnerability and obvious concern for her friend.

"Did I say 'was'?" he sniggered, "Oops. Well, that let the cat out of the bag, huh?! Yes. I have to confess, that my wife is now sadly my ex-wife. Broke this poor schmuck's heart when I snapped her neck with his own two hands…"

Tears streamed down Jo's face at the admission she had already anticipated, and she brushed the back of her hand across her skin to catch the moisture now flooding her cheeks.

"Awww, I'm sorry," the demon placed his hands over his heart and laughed, once again finding his path blocked by the devils traps adorning the walls. His laughter soon gave way to a snarl.

"Give me the child," he seethed, holding up his hand toward the hunters and squeezing his fingers together as if his grip were around Dean's throat. Nothing happened, and the demon began to grow increasingly angry. The floorboards shook once again, and the very foundations of the bar rumbled violently beneath their feet.

"That the best you got?" Dean demanded, shooting a glance at Sam, who appeared also to be at an impasse as to what they should do. There was no possible way they could exercise the demon from James' body with the devils traps separating them, and yet there was no safe way to go up against the demon from outside the building.

"Actually…" James stated, his ragged breathing suddenly calming as he turned his gaze over towards a table that nestled at that back of the bar in the far left hand corner. The table and its surrounding three chairs trembled momentarily before smoke began to rise in thick furls from the centre of the wood.

The hunters rushed towards the furniture in alarm as it erupted into flames, Sam carrying the fire extinguisher that had been poised behind the bar in case of such emergencies.

No sooner had he squirted a torrent of white foam at the flames and snuffed them out than had a table at the other end of the room suddenly combusted, the wood crackling loudly as it succumbed to the fire that engulfed it.

"I could do this all night," purred James, watching in amusement as Jo ran over to the blazing table and threw a fire blanket over it, which she stamped down with the heel of her boots.

"Give me the child, or I'll burn this place down," the demon warned, his eyes glazing over into pools of darkness as he stepped back onto the porch of the bar and raised both hands. On cue, two fires began raging in different corners of the bar and Sam and Dean rushed to extinguish them, as the demon looked on in delight.

"We gotta take this outside," Dean shouted, glancing up at the clock on the bar wall as he cast a pensive look out of the bar doors.

Firing two salt rounds at the demon's chest, the hunters watched as his body was flung from the porch and he landed in the dirt with a heavy thud. Carefully stepping over the salt lines and devils traps on the ground, the trio followed the demon outside, their guns aimed as Sam began to recite the exorcism ritual they all now had memorised.

However, James barely flinched, hauling himself off the ground and dusting down his expensive looking pants as he levelled a glare at the Winchesters.

"Now that…" he hissed, "was a mistake."

Dean's eyes widened as James held out his left arm then slowly pulled up the sleeve of his jacket to reveal the binding mark that was etched into his skin, angry and red.

"Oh fu…" Dean began, his curse cut short as James raised his same arm and waved it wide through the air. Dean felt himself being lifted off his feet and flung across the parking lot of the roadhouse before the cry of protest had even spilled from his lips. He hit the side of the Impala hard, and rolled to the ground, completely winded.

Sam fired another rock salt round at the demon, however, he held up his right palm and the shell froze in mid-air before it had even connected with his chest. Shaking his head in disapproval, James inclined his head at the shell and smiled as it suddenly combusted, dropping to the ground as a small pile of ash.

"I just don't know who to kill first," the demon mused, his fingers curling as he lifted Dean from his feet and the hunter gasped for air as his wind pipe was constricted by an invisible force.

"Leave him alone!" Jo yelled, firing another round at the demon, who appeared not the slightest bit effected by the shot.

Swiping his hand through the air, he swept Jo off her feet, and her body slammed against the ground.

Almost on cue, and as if in answer to the silent prayers Sam had been sending to the heavens, a dozen flashlight beams suddenly lit up the parking lot, and the demon spun around in surprise as the old hunters who had earlier arrived to bring gifts to Sadie, stood in a circle around the suited man.

Shotguns levelled at him, they all began to chant the exorcism ritual in unison, and after ascertaining that both his brother and Jo were uninjured, Sam too joined them in reciting the ancient Latin.

James flinched, his features twisting into first a pained snarl, before a mocking smile blossomed on his features.

"You can't get rid of me that easily," he tutted at them, "the child will be mine… if I have to kill you all to get to her."

"Offing regular Joes for the sake of money and power?" Bobby scoffed from his chair, his shotgun pointed at the demon's chest and his mouth forming a grimace, "what kind of piss poor excuse for a demon are ya, son?"

"I get it done, old man," James retorted, his hands curling into claws at his side as he glowered at the ring of hunters, who were already half way through the exorcism rites to apparently little effect.

"Not this time," Dean growled, spitting blood onto the concrete before he dragged himself to his feet and glared at James.

James let out a howl, his rage ignited, and he took several steps towards Dean with his hands outstretched in murderous intent. He had almost crossed the parking lot, his eyes still glowing like black embers in his skull, the words of Latin washing harmlessly over him, when Jo appeared behind him, the demon killing knife in her hand.

At the last second, before the blade slid into his flesh, the demon wheeled around to face the petite hunter.

"I will slit that brat's throat until she's as dead as her snivelling mother," he hissed, the tip of his nose almost pressed up against Jo's.

Coldly, she spat back, "Over my dead body."

The blade sliced into his chest with ease, and Jo retracted the knife and stumbled back, watching through rapidly tearing eyes as the man dropped to his knees.

He fell face first into the dirt, and Jo and Dean hurriedly turned him over onto his back. But his eyes slammed shut, and James Van Dolen breathed his last breath with his daughter's name on his lips, as his body was wracked by a vicious electric current.

A silence fell upon the assembled hunters, and Jo turned slowly to look at the roadhouse, her thoughts settling on the tiny orphaned child inside. She walked numbly into the bar, ignoring the platitudes and words of comfort that the hunters all offered. They had failed, and Sadie was now alone in the world.

The Winchester brothers watched her go, and Bobby nodded in understanding at Dean, "Go talk to her. We'll clean up."

Dean sighed, passing his gun to Sam, who placed his hand on his brother's shoulder by way of support.

"Thanks, man," he said quietly, turning on his heel, defeat weighing heavily on his heart.

Casting a final glance down at James Van Dolen's body, Dean sighed wearily, and set off in search of Jo, dreading the choices that were now theirs to make.

He searched every inch of the bar before finally climbing up the stairs toward their living accommodation. Dean pushed the door to their bedroom open, unsurprised to find Jo standing next to the window, a sleeping baby in her arms, blissfully unaware of the cruel blow fate had now dealt her.

Dean crossed the room, watching as she simply rocked the sleeping infant in her arms. The moonlight filtering in from the window illuminated the tears tripping Jo's cheeks, and when she eventually found her voice it was little more than a choked whisper.

"We let Emily down," Jo sobbed, resting her head miserably against his chest as Dean carefully wrapped an arm around his girlfriend, mindful of the baby snuggled safely against her.

"I know it feels that way, sweetheart, and I know it sucks," Dean stated, his voice shaking somewhat as he spoke, "but we can't save everyone."

"She didn't deserve this," Jo said, shaking her head and gulping as fresh tears descended her cheeks, "Sadie doesn't deserve this."

Dean nodded, his hand resting for just a moment on the crown of the baby's head. He smiled despite the situation as she shifted and stirred in her sleep, feeling the man's touch upon her in her slumber but not truly allowing it to disturb her.

"It's ok, it's ok," Dean soothed, entangling his fingers in the back of Jo's hair as she allowed her sorrow to momentarily claim her, her tears escaping on noisy breaths and hiccups.

"No it's not, it'll never be ok for her again, Dean," she stared down forlornly at the baby, "she has nobody."

Dean licked his lips, wondering if now would be the best time to broach the subject. He knew there probably would never be a right time, and so he continued on nervously.

"Jo, sweetheart," he began, stroking her hair and pushing an errant curl behind her ear, "we need to make a decision… about Sadie… about where she's gonna live now."

Jo appeared shocked by his words, but she nodded her head in agreement, a thousand thoughts, feelings, and fears all striking at her heart.

"I can't do that now, Dean," she looked up at him fearfully, and found herself almost immediately calmed by the kind, reassuring smile he offered her.

"I know," he soothed, caressing the side of her cheek with the back of his knuckles, "we can decide together or… or whatever you want to do, Jo, I'll stand by you… both of you."

Jo brushed her fingertip over the baby's chubby cheek, and tried not to think about the implications contained in his words. Her head and her heart were fighting to bring her to a conclusion, but she knew deep down there could only be one choice that was truly in Sadie's best interests.

"We can't keep her, Dean," she shook her head sadly, "our life… it's not safe for a child. We can't do that to her. She deserves better, she deserves normality. And you and I, we're not ready for this…"

Dean found himself at once unsurprised, and yet strangely disheartened by this, and as much as he knew arguing with Jo would most probably prove futile, he shook his head. Whilst he could agree with the first part of her statement, he refused to agree with her appraisal of their relationship.

"Other hunters do it, Jo, what about all the guys in here tonight? They all raised families and their kids grew up just fine. But I get it, okay? I do. Hunting, it's not always family friendly; I know it wasn't for our families. But you and me? That's bullshit, and you know it. I'm not going anywhere, this is it for me, Jo, you're all I want. So you take your time, you think about it, and I'll do whatever you want. But don't make me and you the excuse, sweetheart."

Jo remained quiet for a long time, her eyes on Sadie, who was stretching out in her sleep with a blissful half smile playing across her lips. She unconsciously cuddled the baby closer, worrying her bottom lip with her front teeth as had become another nervous habit of late.

"We should put her to bed," Jo finally replied, moving away from Dean's chest so as not to feel the sigh that reverberated from him, although she heard it well enough as she moved across the room and laid Sadie on their bed. She began undressing the still sleeping child, surprised to find that her own movements were apparently gentle enough to allow her to remain locked in a peaceful slumber. She changed the child's diaper and slid on a fresh onesie before laying her in the crib and settling the blankets around her.

Jo watched her for a few minutes, sighing at the slow rise and fall of the baby's chest, and the pacifier that bobbed in her lips as she emitted the softest of snores.

Feeling Dean brush past her on his way to the door, Jo quickly blocked his exit by drawing herself in front of him.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, reaching up and pressing her hand to his cheek, "you're a good man, Dean. I just… I just want to do what's best for her. What Emily would want. This isn't about you and me, it's about the life Emily wanted to give her."

Dean captured her hand and kissed her palm.

"No. I'm sorry. Whatever you want to do, I'm right here. We'll talk about it in the morning?" he suggested, his thumb sweeping across her cheekbone as he observed the dark circles now marring her skin.

Half an hour later and they lay side by side, Jo enveloped in Dean's embrace as they pondered the future of the little girl, and how they could make sure she had the life she truly deserved.

**x-x-x**

Slowly, Jo's hand reached out and caressed the bars of the crib that she had been hunkered down next to on the bedroom floor for the better part of the last day, ever since she and Dean had handed over Sadie to a couple who could provide for her the kind of life that they could not.

Sleep had evaded Jo the night that she had plunged Ruby's demon killing knife into James Van Dolen's chest and sealed his daughter's fate as an orphan. She had tossed and turned fitfully all night, her eyes never even once fluttering closed as she weighed up their ability to keep the child safe versus their ability to be the kind of parents she would deserve. Although her internal war had been waged long into the early hours of the morning, Jo's decision had in reality been made not long after James' body had grown cold. Jo knew that, despite her initial stumblings and obvious reservations, she had grown comfortable enough in her role as Sadie's temporary guardian to care for the child on a more long term basis. However, she could never guarantee the infant's safety from those things that go bump in the night, nor could she ensure that Sadie would lead the kind of childhood where scraping her knee at the park and learning to ride her bike without stabilisers would be among her greatest fears. The children of hunters were often wise beyond their years; robbed of the innocence of childhood long before their time, and faced with the concept of mortality when most were struggling with the concepts of algebra and peer pressure.

Jo had known beyond a shadow of a doubt that Emily would not have wanted that kind of life for the daughter she had sacrificed herself for and so, despite the cold hand of regret enclosing her heart, Jo had let her go, finally, for just a moment, understanding how her own mother had felt as she had bled out on the floor of a hardware store in Carthage.

Bowing her head, Jo reached inside the crib and lifted the single pink blanket to her nose, inhaling deeply the scent of baby shampoo and formula that still clung to it. Her stomach clenched oddly and before Jo had even begun to understand the feeling, she was crying quietly again.

"This is so stupid," she chastised herself for her tears, jumping visibly as Dean's voice interrupted her train of thought.

"No it isn't," he chided her, standing behind her and wrapping his arms snugly around her waist. Jo leant back against his chest, her hand sweeping up and down his arm as he held her close and he felt a heavy sigh leave her body.

"I know Bobby's friends will take good care of her," Jo whispered, allowing Dean a glimpse into her thoughts, "I just…"

She trailed off, unable to find adequate words to continue, and Dean merely nodded. He understood, or at least he thought he had come as close to understanding as was humanly possible. Not only was Jo lost in mourning for Emily, but also for the life she had been unable to promise for her child. Once Jo's decision had been made, Bobby had been instrumental in contacting a couple who had once moved in hunting circles but had retired years ago to begin a family that God had never intended to bless them with. Jo had talked with them on the phone at length, quizzing them about all manner of things from the layout of the panic room they kept to what they considered acceptable lullabies, since she had come to realise that Sadie favoured Zeppelin over her own preferred mullet rock. It had been decided that a clean break was safest, and that to cut all ties and associations with Sadie's previous life would give her the best chance at a newer, safer one. There was little evidence left to indicate whether the demon who had taken possession of James Van Dolen was working alone or as part of some bigger, power-hungry faction, but the Winchesters knew that it would be wiser to afford the child a new identity as a precaution, and that meant that when they chose to say goodbye to the baby, there would be no turning back. Although Jo had ended the conversation more than satisfied that the couple would accept the child as their own and idolise her accordingly, with the decision, it had felt like a tiny piece had been chipped away from Jo's heart.

A day later, they had retrieved Emily Van Dolen's body from an apartment building owned by her husband, and buried her secretly in the woods that surrounded the roadhouse. Bobby had had a pastor friend consecrate the small patch of earth first, but this had done little to console Jo against the fact that she was interring her old friend into an unmarked grave.

"I'm gonna take this thing back outside," Dean stated, brushing one hand along the wooden railing of the crib with an almost reverent touch. Though he had never known Bill Harvelle, it was not difficult to feel the love and obvious excitement with which the hunter had crafted the crib. Now, holding Bill's daughter in his arms, he felt a strange connection to the man.

"Yeah," Jo agreed, staring down at the intricate patterns carved into the wood, and trying desperately to imagine her father's hands at work on the cradle.

Dean squeezed Jo tightly and brushed his lips against her cheek before he moved her out of his arms and set to work covering the crib with plastic sheets. Jo watched him closely before dropping the blanket she held in her hands into a bag filled with the various items of clothing and bedding that Bobby's friends had brought them.

Lifting the crib up into his arms, Dean edged toward the door, and Jo darted ahead to open it to allow him through.

She placed her hand on his arm and halted his steps for only a moment, aware of how heavy the cradle must be, "Make sure it's covered up, it gets pretty dusty in there and…"

"I will," he promised, smiling to allay her concerns. He understood the crib was one last tangible link back to her father, and he would make sure it was carefully stored just as Ellen had.

Having been interrupted, Jo faltered for a second, but holding his gaze she added pointedly, "_And_… we may need it someday."

Dean's brow furrowed, and he examined her face closely as he tried to read her expression. But slowly, a smile appeared on his face which quickly blossomed into a grin.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe," she shrugged, mirroring his smile and standing on tip-toe to kiss him.

"I guess I wouldn't totally suck at the whole 'mom' thing, and…" she traced her fingertips across his jaw and gazed up at him with obvious adoration, "you'd be a really amazing dad. Besides, like you said, we'd have a pretty cute kid."

Dean nodded his agreement, pausing to plant a gentle kiss on Jo's lips, before he shifted the weight of the cradle in his arms to prevent from dropping it.

One last time, Jo reached out and ran the tip of her index finger across the sleek, smooth wood frame. Every last cut of Bill Harvelle's knife to the wood had been committed to her memory in the short time that the crib had been in use again at the roadhouse; but the one image that continued to stand out in Jo's mind was the round, smiling face of the child she could never hope to see again.

* * *

><p><strong>The End of Episode Twelve<strong>

**(Next Episode – The Unsocial Network)**


	37. Chapter 37

_**Episode 13 – Part 1**_

'_**The Unsocial Network'**_

_**x-x-x**_

Since losing the use of his legs, Bobby Singer had found himself becoming more acquainted with a heavy sense of unease than he would have liked. Alone in the house adjacent to his scrap yard, with only his guard dog for company, over time Bobby found himself becoming increasingly attuned to the various night time sounds of his environment. After he had passed six months in his chair, Bobby was certain he would be able to discern a porcupine with flatulence if it happened to be within a mile of his property. And so, one brisk January night, when the gate to the Singer salvage yard had long since been locked and Bobby had retired for the evening with a cold six pack and some Golden Girls re-runs he would rather die than admit to watching, the distinct sound of unearthly howling from out in the lot was a most unwelcome one indeed.

Bobby reached for the shotgun that was never far from his side and cocked the safety catch in the next instant. He began to wheel his chair over to the nearest window but, seeing nothing but the chill wind sweeping junk around the yard, Bobby wheeled himself backwards quickly.

He allowed himself a moment to steady his nerves, his eyes darting to the muted television screen. His hand had barely drifted back to the wheel of his chair when the second howl tore through the otherwise still night air. Bobby was pushing himself over to the front door and bolting it before he had even finished drawing a subsequent breath.

He shot a glance at the telephone mounted to the wall that he used for personal calls, wondering if some supernatural creature was about to come crashing through the window not several feet away. Swallowing down the fear that had begun to form an uncomfortable lump in his throat, Bobby slowly set out toward the phone, his eyes locked on the window, and one familiar number on his mind.

**x-x-x**

With a sheen of perspiration coating his skin, Dean Winchester lay prostrate on the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he found himself panting and all but gasping for breath. A wide grin gradually blossomed on his face, and he turned his head to regard his girlfriend who was curled up at his side.

The candle light caught her skin in a warm, golden glow, and he could not help but run his eyes over the gentle curves that his hands and lips had explored.

Jo ignored the sheet pooling at her hips, and used what little energy she had left to settle herself against Dean's side. Her lips pressed a tender kiss against his shoulder and he instantly wrapped her in his arms.

"We're so good at that," she grinned, glancing up at him from behind wide brown eyes as her fingertip traced over the tattoo on his chest.

Dean arched an eyebrow and nodded in happily exhausted agreement.

"Yes we are," he drawled, earning a yelp of surprise as he landed a playful slap on her rear.

Jo laughed, smiling against his lips as he kissed her eagerly and his hands swept slow, firm paths up her back.

The sudden interruption of his cell phone ringing prompted an altogether different kind of groan from the blonde than Dean preferred to hear, and he snatched up the offending item irritably from the nightstand.

Jo extracted herself from his arms and sat up in bed, running her fingers through her hair as she scanned the floor for clothing.

"Bobby? What's up man, you okay?" she heard Dean ask. However, she felt his attention focused on her still as she slipped from the bed and wrapped his discarded flannel shirt around her naked, shivering body.

Turning to face him, Jo watched a familiar frown line form in the centre of his forehead, and she perched on the end of the bed, the light-hearted mood she had been in considerably darkening.

"What is it?" she whispered, growing more and more uneasy as Dean suddenly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

He was already tugging on his pants as he stated in an urgent tone, "Just sit tight, I'll be there in ten."

Dean jammed the phone into the pocket of his jeans even as he still tried desperately to button them with one hand. Jo stooped to the floor and retrieved the t-shirt he had worn beneath his shirt, helping him to manoeuvre it over his head even as he fumbled with his boots.

"Dean, what's going on?" Jo demanded, her expression now purely one of concern as she watched Dean's movements, which could only be described as frantic. He moved towards the door without pausing to kiss her, a sure sign that something was somehow amiss, and stopped only momentarily to swipe up the keys to the Impala from the top of his chest of drawers.

"There's something in Bobby's yard," he stated, working hard to iron out any wrinkles of fear in his tone, "I'm going to go check it out. I'll be back as soon as I know everything is safe."

"Want me to come with?" Jo inquired, tossing Dean his jacket, which he caught in one hand with a grateful smile. He shook his head and moved back towards the door, treading lightly on the floorboards so as not to wake Sophia or Sam, who each slept on oblivious in their respective rooms.

"Nothing Bobby and I can't handle," Dean assured her, winking as he added, "don't wait up."

With that, the door closed quietly behind Dean, and Jo stole back into their bed, pulling the patchwork comforter that her grandmother had stitched up around her chin. She glanced once at the clock on the bedside table, memorising the time, before her gaze drifted to the ceiling, and she began her wait for Dean's safe return.

**x-x-x**

The Impala drew up to the front of the old scrap yard less than fifteen minutes later, partly due to the lack of any other vehicles on the road at that hour, and Dean's foot having been firmly pressed down on the gas for the entire journey.

Killing the engine, Dean paused to hit 'send' on his cell phone, and the short, yet pointed message destined for his girlfriend drifted into the ether. Having left in such a hurry, without any form of proper goodbye, Dean had felt it necessary to send a brief 'I love you', just in case. Whilst he had made a point over the last year or so to not let the pessimistic side of his nature win over, experience was a tough master. Whenever they left for a hunt, or would be separated for any given amount of time, a kiss goodbye had become the norm; purely because deep down inside, Dean could not believe that he would be allowed to continue on in the life he now lived. There was always a deep seated fear that whatever the occasion of their parting, it would be the last time he saw Jo.

Jamming his phone in his pocket, he reached for the gun on the seat beside him and swung open the car door. Almost immediately a mournful, unearthly howl filled his ears, and his brow furrowed as he tried to place what manner of beast or other worldly creature the cry had emanated from.

Dean closed the Impala door as quietly as possible, before turning on his heel in the direction of the howling. Step after step carried him into the jungle of abandoned car carcasses, which Dean and Sam had once played hide and seek within as children, despite their father's disapproval. It was easy enough to get lost as a child between the great, hulking metal husks, but that had been half the thrill of their game; for a young Winchester, where there was no danger, there was no fun. However, as he had grown older, and arguably somewhat wiser, Dean's opinions on that matter had shifted, but he still recalled their childish game with fondness. However, it was a trip down memory lane he would rather not have revisited in the early hours of the morning with an unidentified panting beast somewhere in the vicinity.

As quietly as he could, Dean clicked the safety catch off his revolver, which he had loaded with silver bullets from the Impala's trunk as a precaution. The barrel held only five rounds, and Dean had managed to ferret out only three silver bullets. He knew that, should he come face to face with the beast, he had to make every shot count.

Dean crept around the back of a pick-up that was mounted on bricks and missing one door, clutching his gun like the lifeline it was. His eyes darted about in the darkness, picking out potential hulking shadowy masses and then dismissing them with practiced ease. He continued to move forward for several minutes, his breathing low and even, and barely audible. He knew, however, that the creature would already be aware of his presence. Yet still, Dean was unprepared when the powerful body reared up off its hind legs and launched itself at him from across the scrap yard.

The hunter went down hard, his breath leaving his body in a whoosh, and a single shot left the barrel of his gun as his finger twitched on impulse around the trigger.

Inside his house, Bobby Singer winced, and his gnarled old fingers closed around the neck of his shotgun a little tighter.

**x-x-x**

Fumbling for his gun, which had landed in the dirt beside him, Dean stared up at the huge, jowly creature, as two gigantic paws landed on either side of his neck.

It's teeth glinted menacingly in the moonlight, and as it reared it's head back and prepared to attack, Dean braced himself for the inevitable.

And then it happened.

Licking… industrious licking.

Squinting against the darkness, Dean managed to wrestle himself free, only to see the silhouette of a tail wagging merrily in the security lights of the yard.

"What the hell?" he muttered, sitting up and hiding his face behind his hands as the dog practically bounced up and down in excitement and ducked it's head to initiate another slobbery greeting.

"Get out of the way, boy," Bobby shouted, having managed to wheel himself out onto the back porch, shotgun now trained on the beast.

"Bobby, no!" Dean yelled, waving his arms to halt the hunter's misguided actions.

Bobby lowered his gun and leaned forward in his chair as he strained to make out the creature now running in circles around the younger man.

"What in blue blazes is that thing?"

Dean rubbed his temple and slipped his gun into his pocket, "I don't know, kind of looks like Scooby Doo to me."

The dog yelped and barked happily, pouncing down on it's lower paws so that its hind quarters stood up, and it's tail swayed back and forth.

Bobby sighed, sagging back in his chair with evident relief. He felt somewhat foolish, but the sight of Dean pinned to the floor by an enormous puppy was a fairly good trade-off for his embarrassment.

"It's a great dane," Bobby stated, his tone somewhat scornful as Dean slipped his belt from out of the loops on his jeans and used it to fashion a makeshift leash for the puppy, who sat obediently whilst Dean affixed it around his thick neck.

Dean walked towards the porch, the end of the belt in one hand, and the dog trailing happily by his side, it's tail wagging ten to the dozen. It peered up at him through large, brown doe eyes, seeming to be looking to him for some kind of direction.

"Well, what do you want me to do with it?" Dean inquired, reaching down to scratch one of the dog's gigantic, floppy ears. He let out a low whine of approval, and his tail thumped the dirt again, sending up a cloud of dust particles.

"Beats me," Bobby answered with a shrug, a smile twitching beneath his beard as he suggested, "why don't you take it home?"

Dean's eyes widened in horror at the prospect, and he shook his head in warning at Bobby.

"Oh no, no way," he objected, attempting to thrust the leash into Bobby's hand to no avail, "it's on your property, you keep it."

"I'm a damn cripple, boy," Bobby barked, shaking his head as he slapped at one wheel of his chair with his left hand, "what do you expect me to do with an animal that size? Saddle it up and have it tow me?"

At the quirk of Dean's eyebrow, Bobby let out a growl, which the dog listened to with interest, his head cocked to one side.

"Besides, Rumsfeld the Second wouldn't care for the company," Bobby stated firmly, patting the beast's overly large cranium.

"Look at it as practice," Bobby directed, smiling as he scratched under the dog's chin and it tilted its head back with a look of unrelenting bliss.

"For what? Rodeo?" Dean balked, looking down at the sheer size of the puppy, which already far exceeded your average golden retriever.

Bobby shook his head and muttered irritably, "You and I both know Jo's been pretty upset lately over what happened last month with that poor kid. Maybe this'd cheer her up. Besides, like I said, look at it as practice for when you have your own young'uns."

Dean appeared suitably appalled at the idea, and his subsequent babbled reply more than aptly displayed this. "But...I...B...No."

Bobby chuckled as the creature in question suddenly dropped down heavily in the dirt, tail still wagging as it rolled onto its back, all four legs akimbo.

Both men suddenly paused in their argument, their gazes both collectively drawn to the underside of the puppy who was patiently awaiting a belly rub.

"Congratulations, looks like you got yourself a boy," Bobby smirked, clearing his throat as he realised he was still staring at a particular area of the dog's rather large anatomy.

Dean too cleared his throat, and a brief smile passed his lips, "Starting to feel a little inadequate around here."

"You speak for yourself," Bobby guffawed.

"Gross, Bobby, gross," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes as he watched Bobby wheel himself back inside the house, one arm raised in way of a somewhat dismissive wave.

Dean regarded the dog, who was busily rolling on his back in the dust, his paws beating at the air. There was no question in Dean's mind that the animal would be enormous once it was fully grown, and he seemed unable to tear his gaze away from the puppy's already monstrous paws, which were practically the size of one of Jo's hands.

Sighing, Dean walked back towards the Impala, his head hanging low. He had almost reached the driver's side door before he realised that the puppy was still laying on the ground, looking at him in a thoroughly dejected manner.

"Just get in," Dean said gruffly as he threw open the back door of the Impala. As if he understood, the puppy leapt to his feet and bounded after the hunter, throwing himself into the back of the car with gusto. However, rather than settle down on the floor as Dean had intended, the dog scrambled over the seats until his rump was planted firmly in the front passenger side seat. A trail of drool ebbed from his jowls, and the dog barked once at Dean in excitement, almost as though he were stating, "come on, let's go, dude!"

Wincing as the puppy's huge paws grappled for purchase against the leather seats, Dean shot the dog a warning glare and gunned the engine.

Sighing resolutely, he shot a sideways glance at the dog and was amused to find him sitting upright, eyes half closed, as if the open road and AC/DC tunes blaring from the radio appealed as much to him as his new master.

"Just... try not to get hair all over the seats, okay?"

The dog barked in reply, and Dean rolled his eyes, wondering just how receptive Jo was going to be to their new addition.

**x-x-x**

Pacing the bar floor, Jo pulled the throw blanket tighter around her shoulders as she kept her weary vigil.

Dean had been gone over an hour, and both his and Bobby's cell phones were going straight to voicemail.

"Dean Winchester, if you get yourself killed, I'll murder you," she fumed to the empty room, cursing the fact she had ever let him go alone when there was a whole plethora of supernatural nasties just waiting to chow down on a hunter.

Swallowing down the wave of nervous nausea that threatened to overcome her, Jo sat on the bench of one of the booths and rested her head in her hands as a succession of yawns escaped her lips. However her head snapped up instantly as the sound of a car pulling into the dusty yard outside caught her attention.

Jo would know the purr of the Impala's powerful engine from a mile off, and she leaped to her feet to greet Dean just as the sound of the car door slamming drifted to her ears. She frowned in concern, knowing that Dean would usually rather shoot himself with a crossbow than hurt his precious baby in such a way. Her mouth suddenly felt dry in horrible anticipation of what state Dean was about to limp into the bar in.

Therefore, when he pushed the door open seconds later, looking tired but very much in one piece, Jo let out a gasp of surprise. She flung herself into Dean's arms in the next instant and buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his father's old jacket to calm her raging nerves.

"Hey, hey," Dean muttered, rubbing Jo's back soothingly, and glancing down at her in surprise. "I'm sorry I didn't call. Took longer at Bobby's than I expected."

"It's fine," Jo promised, extracting herself gently from her boyfriend's arms and peering up at him with a small, sheepish smile. "I was just a little worried, is all."

"Sorry," Dean repeated, tucking a lock of Jo's hair behind her ear. He sucked in a deep breath in the moment of silence that followed, his expression betraying that he was working up his nerve for something or other. Jo's features shifted into an expression of suspicion, and she regarded Dean as she waited for him to speak.

"I uh… I brought you something," he stated, a grin suddenly spreading across his lips, although it looked undeniably pained.

Jo looked at him dubiously, planting her hand on her hip as she cocked her head and arched a fine blonde eyebrow. "Why does that make me nervous?"

Dean shrugged, smiling good-naturedly, although the smile failed to fully reach his eyes which just increased Jo's suspicions even further.

"Yeah, well... Just remember, this was Bobby's idea," Dean held up his hands defensively, and Jo frowned as he gestured to the bar door and slowly pulled it open. A mere second later, the sound of claws frantically skittering across the wooden floor greeted her, before she found herself practically bowled over by the enormous, floppy eared puppy.

Dean winced, half closing his eyes as the dog bounded at Jo and reared up to excitedly lick at her face.

"Bobby's idea!" he held up his hands again, widening his eyes to emphasize his point and hopefully steer her anger in the direction of the rightful recipient.

Dean blinked in surprise as, instead of the snarl or glare he had been anticipating, Jo looked up at him with the widest smile he had ever seen. She giggled as the puppy tried to clumsily lick her cheek, his huge paws settling on her chest as his tail wagged and he slobbered all over her with unchecked delight.

Laughing at the hound-dog noises the beast was emitting, Jo rubbed the puppy's ears and stroked his brown fur.

"He's adorable!" she squealed, rubbing his jowled cheeks as she now addressed the dog himself, "Yes you are! Yes you are!"

"Like I said… totally my idea," Dean said, his smile quickly forming as he watched Jo fawn over the dog, who appeared thrilled by the attention he was suddenly receiving. He rolled onto the floor, still grunting and yowling in happiness, and waited expectantly for Jo to scratch his belly.

She settled at his side and immediately obliged, only tearing her gaze away from him long enough to demand of Dean, "Does he have a name?"

The hunter shrugged, sliding his jacket off his shoulders as he replied, "I've been calling him Scooby. He seems to kind of like that."

"Is that your name?" Jo inquired in the same baby voice, her nose now against the dog's cold, wet one, "is your name Scooby, huh handsome?"

The puppy barked as if in reply, and before either hunter could react, he galloped across the floor and dashed up the stairs.

"Make yourself at home," Dean grumbled, securing the locks on the bar doors before he followed Jo in pursuit of their new fur child.

The couple edged as quietly as possible down the hall, mindful that both Sam and Sophia slept only feet away in their rooms.

Curling her fingers around their bedroom door, Jo slapped her hand over her mouth in a giggle as they found 'Scooby' had already decided to call it a night, and was reclined on his back across their bed. The dog cast a brief glance toward the couple, and gave his tail a wag before he began rolling and twisting from side to side in the sheets.

"Hey, I don't think so, buddy," Dean clicked his fingers at the dog, gesturing for him to get down from the bed.

The dog rolled over, now sitting upright as he regarded the hunter, his head cocked and ears peaked as he looked on in confusion.

"You get the floor," Dean stated, his eyes narrowing as the dog merely stared at him. Jo snorted, clamping her hand tighter over her mouth to muffle her laughter. Dean shot her an arch look before turning back to Scooby, who had made no move to return to his apparently rightful place on the floor.

Sighing, Dean crossed the room and patted the dog insistently on the rump, until the puppy scrambled off the bed. Dean looked on in satisfaction and, when he crawled into bed finally for the second time that night, it was with Jo only at his side.

When he woke, however, it was with a hefty puppy with a serious case of dog breath half sprawled across his chest.

**x-x-x**

_**Seattle Pacific University, Seattle**_

_**January 6**__**th**__** 2012**_

With just a few short, succinct clicks of his netbook mouse, Riley Tambard had finally brought an end to the infinite fights, heated debates, and duck-faced 'selfies' that had been flooding his screen for the last seven months. He could barely recall why he had even bothered to become a member of the campus' new social networking site, but he assumed that it had had something to do with sex and women, and more to the point, meeting women for sex. Although he had managed to arrange a handful of hook-ups through his computer from the comfort of his own dorm room, the convenience of this had far been outweighed by the intense annoyance Riley had felt every time his email inbox pinged with another pointless message.

Filled with an odd sense of weightless freedom, Riley leaned back against his headboard and smiled down at his computer screen. No longer would pictures of scantily clad fat chicks pouting into bathroom mirrors be inflicted on his eyes, and for that, he would be evermore grateful.

Riley downed the last of his can of cola before crushing the tin against his forehead and belching loudly. He doubted he would miss the supposed interaction of his peers, since his football scholarship and regular gym time kept him pretty busy.

Belching once more for good measure, and chuckling in juvenile amusement, Riley flexed his fingers and opened a new search engine window.

Using his old, tried and tested porn site favourites, he waggled his eyebrows in delight as a bevvy of busty, pouty, impossibly proportioned women filled the screen.

A notification suddenly popped up from the bottom of the screen, and he rolled his eyes impatiently at the message from the social network, and simply closed the alert box.

The screen now uncluttered, save for the sight of orange, heavily made-up, naked women, Riley sighed in satisfaction.

"Now this is what the internet was really made for," he remarked to an empty room.

He perused the list of available videos like a seasoned pro, uttering a 'very nice, very nice' when a particular playmate caught his eye.

The young man failed to notice the sound of a door opening out in the hall, or the slow, steady footfalls that advanced toward his room.

The door handle turned in the very moment the room was plunged into darkness.

**x-x-x**

The dog sat patiently at the side of the bed. Scooby Harvelle-Winchester, as huge in stature as he was long in name, stared at his masters with an expression of confusion and mild concern.

His furry eyebrows rose expressively as he cocked his head, debating the situation before him with a grumbled whine.

A hand swatted gently in his direction, and the dog shuffled back for only a moment, as he eyed the writhing mass beneath the covers.

A strangled howl left his jowled lips, and he snorted irritably as his mistress seemed intent on ignoring him.

"Scooby... quit it!" Jo panted, breaking the kiss with her equally breathless boyfriend only long enough to chastise their canine voyeur.

Scooby simply let out a whine, long and low and full of melancholy, as Jo's head disappeared back under the covers. He padded to the end of the bed, his nose sniffing several centremetres in front of the sole of Jo's foot, before he ran his tongue lightly over her skin.

The hunter let out a yelp of laughter, and Dean huffed as she pulled away from him again, her attention back on the puppy.

"Lay down, Scooby," she instructed, mildly surprised when the dog sank back on his haunches, and then slumped to the floor, seemingly at her command. "Good boy."

However, when Jo returned to previous pursuits, Scooby released a deep, gruff bark, which succeeded in finally drawing Dean from beneath the covers.

"Hey, mutt…" he began, his eyes suddenly widening as the puppy bounded across the room and then flung himself onto the bed. Dean's breath escaped his body in a whoosh, and he fell back against the pillows with the weight of the mildly growling puppy on top of his chest.

Tail thumping wildly, Scooby lapped at the man's face, mistaking his mutters of annoyance for enthusiasm.

"Hey!" Dean shouted, trying to shove the dog off, but finding his arm pinned beneath Jo, who was laughing heartily beside him.

Ducking his head unsuccessfully to try to avoid the dog's tongue, Dean grabbed blindly at the nightstand and frowned as he produced a pair of bunched up socks.

Holding them up to grab the beast's attention, Dean then hurled them across the room, once again wincing in pain as the dog's huge paws trampled over his body and he leapt from the bed to attack his new toy.

Dean curled onto his side, his eyes almost watering at the pain now rising up from his crotch.

"Man down!" he exclaimed through clenched teeth.

Jo winced in sympathy, casting her gaze over to the puppy, who was leaning down on his haunches, pouncing and batting at the socks as he grumbled to himself, tail still wagging.

Satisfied that the animal was now engrossed in a project of his own, Jo rolled over to regard her boyfriend.

Pressing a slow line of kisses down his jaw in a teasing gesture, Jo trailed a finger down the centre of Dean's chest and affixed him with a toe curling stare.

She initiated a searing kiss and gestured beneath the covers, disappearing under the sheets before he could so much as blink. And once again, Dean Winchester was gripped tight and raised from perdition.

**x-x-x**

"This blows!" Dean groused, barely bothering to keep his tone low as he rounded the corridor and appeared on the threshold of the doorway of the dorm room, which was now swathed in yellow crime scene tape, and milling with students.

"Especially if your name's…" Jo paused, breaking off to glance down at the slip of paper in her hand, "Riley Tambard."

Dean made a snorting sound that may have conveyed his agreement before he approached the closed heavy oak door and rapped on it sharply. The hunters exchanged looks, both having managed very little in the way of sleep thanks to the lumpy motel bed that they had spent the previous evening cuddled up in, three quarters of the way between Nebraska and Seattle. It was at times such as these that Jo wished Dean would overcome his fear of flying as, snacking on dry roasted peanuts and potentially joining the mile high club was significantly more favourable in her mind than gas station burritos and toilet seats that she was afraid to sit on to pee.

The hunters both listened attentively for sounds of movement inside the room, Jo peering up at Dean as they heard footsteps clearly padding towards the door.

"So, no cover story?" she checked quickly in a whisper, relieved when Dean bobbed his head.

"No cover story," he repeated, "Faye's an old friend of Dad's. She seems to think her latest case has 'Winchester' written all over it."

Jo frowned, gnawing on her bottom lip thoughtfully before she queried, "She happen to say why that is?"

Finally, having grown bored with waiting for someone to appear on the other side of the door, Dean tried the handle, and pushed the door open. The two hunters crossed the threshold of the room, their gazes sweeping the area quickly for any signs of lingering trouble.

Dean grinned, extending his boot to gingerly move an upturned computer magazine to uncover the item he could just about make out was hidden beneath it.

"Nope. But I'm guessing it's got a lot to do with whatever cleaved this kid's head right off his shoulders," he said, watching Jo wince, "what? That doesn't fill you with the warm and fuzzies?"

Jo wrinkled her nose, and they both breathed an audible sigh of relief as the hidden article turned out to be no more than a pair of gym socks.

"Not exactly," she guffawed, glancing toward the doorway as Sam came strolling in, an absurdly wide smile in place.

"I might check out the library before we leave... this place is amazing. There's like... 28 million books through this program that..." he paused, "and you guys don't really care. Right."

Jo smiled and rolled her eyes, stooping down and picking up another discarded magazine. A fair haired, bare-breasted woman greeted her from the cover, with the title 'Buxom Blondes' plastered across her rather ample assets.

Dean sniggered, "More my kind of reading material."

Jo flicked through it disinterestedly, a scowl quickly settling on her features, "Pfft. Like those are real?!"

"Like men would still be obsessed with looking at 'em if they were," a somewhat husky female voice stated with obvious amusement. Jo's head whipped around, and her gaze came to rest on the older woman who stood leaning against the doorjamb of the ensuite, one hand on her hip and her head cocked to one side. Her shoulder length hair was primarily grey, and her tanned skin was heavily lined in a manner that hinted she had been at least a decade John Winchester's senior.

"Faye Gordon," the woman said, stepping forwards and offering her hand to Jo, who clasped it and shook it heartily.

"Jo Harvelle," she countered, her response almost immediate on impulse. Jo's brown eyes roved the woman's face, as she quickly evaluated what little she had seen so far, and attempted to formulate an opinion accordingly. She was met by nothing more than an honest smile, and a pair of light blue eyes that twinkled with the promise of keen wit and intelligence. Deciding that she already liked Detective Gordon, Jo beamed at the woman, who nodded before moving towards Dean and gathering him into a hug.

"Come 'ere Dean," Faye demanded, almost knocking Dean off his feet as she seized him in a bear hug. Jo was almost certain she heard bones crack in protest, and Dean let out a pained grunt that appeared to tally with the idea.

"Easy there, Faye," Dean gasped, patting the woman on the back even as she laughed openly at Dean's expression of discomfort.

"Getting soft in your old age, Winchester?" she pressed, although she had already moved onto Sam, who at least appeared to be faring better under the physical assault.

Looking Jo up and down, Faye then turned back to her and cast a briefly analytical gaze at each of the brothers, "So, lemme guess, you're either their parole officer, or you're the much better half of one of these schmucks?"

Jo laughed, glancing behind her as Dean looped an arm around her collarbone and then gestured down to the petite blonde.

"Luckiest woman on earth, right here," he smirked, earning a snort of amusement and a patronising pat on the cheek from said 'luckiest woman'.

Faye nodded, holding the young hunters in a genuinely affectionate gaze until the pressing nature of the case pulled her from her thoughts. "Alright, so let's get down to business, huh?!"

"Yes ma'am," Sam nodded obediently, taking out a notepad and pen as he awaited the more intimate details of the case that the local newspaper hacks had yet to crack.

"A nineteen year old male student found by his roommate with his head taken clean off his shoulders," Detective Gordon began, perching herself on the edge of the bed as she spoke, seeming unconcerned by the fact it was likely a piece of evidence in itself.

"What's so strange about that?" Dean inquired, amending himself quickly as he added, "aside from the obvious… but it could be just a regular old human psychopath."

"True, and since the murder suspect is already in custody, I'd be inclined to agree," Faye replied, "except for one thing."

"What's that?" inquired Jo, beginning to pace carefully around the room, her eyes roving the various personal effects dotted about it, which ranged from signed footballs to unused condoms still in their packets.

"Riley Tambard was killed by some random kid who lived down the hall and had never said two words to him," Faye answered, "perfectly balanced young man, a high achiever, undoubtedly destined for greatness, and with not a single motive to commit murder."

"How did he do it?" Sam asked, looking up from his notepad, "must have been something pretty heavy duty to take this kid's head off."

"Bread knife," Faye answered, swallowing hard as she met Dean's gaze, "not your usual weapon of choice for a cold blooded killer."

Dean gulped, nodding as he added, "Must have taken some… dedication."

"You have no idea," Faye answered darkly, her gaze drifting to the deep crimson pools that stained the carpet.

Dean cleared his throat, miming a sawing motion as he pondered the sheer will and strength required to commit the crime in question.

"Lot of shoulder action right there," Dean noted, drawing appalled expressions from Jo and Sam.

Quickly shrugging off his macabre reverie, Dean suddenly spied something of interest and, like a child in a fully stocked candy store, his eyes lit up as he pilfered the small plastic packet from the dead student's night stand.

"Whoah! Dude!" he enthused, his face now taking on a more suggestive quality as he held the packet up to the light and grinned in glee.

Jo narrowed her eyes, sighing dramatically as she snatched the 'glow in the dark' condom from her errant boyfriend, before tossing it back onto the nightstand.

"Don't even think about it, Skywalker," she stated, widening her eyes pointedly.

Sam shook his head slowly, sighing as he turned to regard the detective and tried to steer the conversation in a far more useful direction.

"Can we talk to the guy?" Sam asked, flipping his notebook closed and jamming it into the breast pocket of his jacket.

"Sure," Faye bobbed her head, "so, what's it to be this time, huh? State Police, FBI?"

"We haven't done chaplaincy for a while," Dean stated, his soft smile somewhat nostalgic as he recalled just how easily the confessions rolled off peoples' tongues when they believed they were speaking to a man of the cloth.

Jo shot Dean a thoroughly astounded look, which he deflected with a smile.

"The robes feel nice," he said, answering the question she had been far too afraid to voice.

"They're one step away from a dress," Sam stated, staring at his brother askance. Dean's expression fell, and he glared at Sam in irritation before turning on his heel to address Faye, who was watching the hunters figuratively duke it out with her arms folded patiently.

"Ok, you set up our little tete-a-tete with the happy hacker and we'll poke around here some more and see what we can turn up," Dean stated, almost rubbing his hands together in anticipation of some long awaited field work.

Faye followed behind the hunters as they walked across the parking lot toward the Impala. She watched as the trio deftly avoided the journalists and bystanders who were crowding around the news vans that now littered the college grounds.

"Folks just lap this stuff up," Faye sighed derisively, jamming her hands in her pockets as the group came to a stop in front of the car.

Sam bobbed his head, frowning as he noted a gang of students taking 'selfies' in front of the police crime scene cordons with matching ghoulish smiles and pouts in place.

"Yeah, well there's some sick puppies out there..." Dean began, sighing and practically darting out of the way as a lumbering creature bounded out of the back seat and dove for Jo.

"There's my little guy!" Jo exclaimed, smiling in delight as she accepted the puppy's furious licks to her cheek, as his tail thumped against the asphalt.

"Speaking of," Dean huffed, shaking his head disapprovingly as the dog then turned his sites on him.

Faye watched with obvious amusement as the older Winchester attempted to gently swat the animal back.

"All you guys need to do is paint 'Mystery Machine' down the side of the car and you're all set."

Sam stifled a snort of laughter as Dean cleared his throat and pointed in Faye's general direction.

"We'll see you later."


	38. Chapter 38

_**Episode 13 – Part 2**_

'_**The Unsocial Network'**_

_**x-x-x**_

It was with an undeniable spring in his step that Dean entered the King County Jail, the priest's robes he had rented from a local costume shop swishing about his feet. Sam had instead opted for black trousers with a black shirt and traditional dog collar, whereas Dean had been determined from the get go to don the full garb. In his hands, he clutched a Bible that was so large, it was almost comedic, and around his neck he had hung a silver crucifix that would have had Buffy green with envy. Sometimes, the extent to which Dean enjoyed dressing up alarmed Sam, until he reminded himself that a man who had watched porn as much as his brother had, would be under certain illusions as to the benefits of role play. No doubt Dean was indeed hoping that, somewhere, Jo would be lurking, sporting some manner of scandalous nun costume and insatiable lust. Sam shook his head at the thought, and Dean merely grinned at him unknowingly.

Faye had managed to arrange their visit with the prisoner via the police chief, who it seemed she had worked with numerous times before. They were led from the front desk by an officer towards the cells, where both were searched by hand and with a small metal detector before being allowed through the metal gate and into the corridor that housed the prisoners.

As they walked down the long, darkened hallway, they noted that the majority of the cells were empty, save for one or two men who were obviously no strangers to one particular side of the bars. Half expecting to be delivered to one of these given the details they knew about the murder, Sam frowned as he found that the officer had drawn to a halt in front of a cell that housed a rather weedy looking teen with a ponytail and a Star Trek t-shirt.

After pausing to give the boy a quick once over, Dean turned to the officer and demanded, "You sure this is him? I mean, kid doesn't look like he could kill his way out of a Care Bear convention, let alone saw the head off a beefed up jock type."

The officer shrugged and gestured to the young man, "This is our perp. Caught the guy red-handed… literally." He grimaced at the memory his words evoked, and cleared his throat in a plea for the clergymen to simply go about their business, thus freeing him up for coffee and doughnuts.

"Alright, well… thank you…" Dean smiled piously, adding as an afterthought, "my child."

Sam mouthed the words 'my child' at his sibling in disbelief, and rolled his eyes at the grin Dean bestowed upon him.

"Thanks Father, I'll uh… I'll be right out here if you gentlemen need me," the officer stated, casting one final glance at the young man in his custody before he strolled back to his desk.

Clearing his throat, Dean held his hands in front of him, the Bible clasped tightly in his grip, "Jay Coleman?"

"What is this, The Exorcist?" the young man remarked with a sneer that ably conveyed his disdain.

"Why? You know somebody doing the old pea soup routine?!" Dean checked, only half joking.

Jay stood up, his hands gripping the bars of the cell as he replied witheringly, "No?"

"Oh. Okay, well… good," Dean nodded, suddenly licking his lips as he continued, "so, uh… absolution. You want it, we got it. I mean, we can grant it to you. All you gotta do is confess. Isn't that right, Father Ted?"

"That's right, Father Dowling."

Jay shrugged, "Confess? To what?"

Sam exchanged a mildly confused glance with his sibling, "Um… murder?"

The young man mouthed an 'ohhh' before nodding enthusiastically and offering them an apologetic grin, "That? Sure. Yeah. I killed him."

"I see," Dean said slowly, somewhat taken aback by the apparent murderer's keenness to reveal his crime.

"Why?" Sam inquired, deliberately softening his tone as he addressed the boy, although Dean could see from his peripheral vision that his brother had adopted a defensive poise should the moment call for it.

Jay shrugged, sinking down onto the cot at the side of him and pausing to settle his legs up on it. He crossed his feet at the ankles, and Dean noted that the shoelaces had been removed from his high-tops, as was customary in such situations.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," Jay finally responded, not even a flicker of remorse crossing his features.

"Had Riley Tambard… upset you?" Dean checked, finding it difficult to banish the frown of distaste from his features as his contemplated the very real possibility that they were dealing with a run of the mill psychopath as opposed to an innocent victim of the occult.

Jay shook his head and crossed his arms behind his neck in order to lean back in comfort against the stone cell wall.

"Not really," Jay answered, "I didn't know him. I think my girlfriend borrowed some sugar off him once or something."

"So they were sleeping together?" Dean demanded, an unsuitable level of glee present in his tone. Jay stared at him, once thick eyebrow arched.

"No…" he said, his tone remaining impartial, "she borrowed some sugar off of him. She was baking."

Dean's brow furrowed, and he folded his arms across his chest as he continued the interrogation, "So, you killed the guy, just because… by hacking his head off with a kitchen knife?"

Jay seemed mildly perturbed by the expression with which Dean had discussed the murder weapon, and he tried to defend himself accordingly.

"I was making a sandwich."

"A sandwich…" Dean began, his eyes widening as he tried to somehow comprehend the behaviour of their strangely apathetic suspect.

"A BLT. White bread, lettuce, couple of slices of tomato, a little pepper… man, I love bacon. Bacon's awesome."

"Yes. Yes it is," Dean agreed, looking up at Sam for assistance, although the younger of the Winchesters was simply staring at the boy like he had grown another head. Dean almost wished he would, so that the youngsters' strange behaviour could be explained.

"Bacon's awesome," Dean repeated to his brother, hoping the absurdity of the words would spur Sam into taking over the line of questioning.

Dean puffed out his cheeks and sighed, "Okay. Uh… Voices. Yeah, so, you been hearing voices? Maybe some demon whispering in your ear, telling you to go and…"

He mimed a sawing motion and Sam shot him a horrified glare.

"Demons?" Jay repeated, grinning as he looked askance at the man, "are you serious?"

"Yeah, you know… weird smells, seeing things that aren't there, clouds of funky smoke… uh… maybe a classmate with black, freaky-ass eyes," he paused, searching his mind for any other supernatural entity that may have prompted the kid's murderous actions. Jay was staring open mouthed at Dean.

"No. What's wrong with you?" He turned his gaze to Sam and hooked his thumb to gesture in Dean's direction, his voice lowered to barely above a whisper, "Is he okay?"

"I ask myself that often," Sam replied through a tight lipped forced smile. Dean shot a hostile glare at his brother, who merely shrugged before taking a hesitant step towards their interviewee.

"Jay… can I call you Jay?" he began, cocking his head as he regarded the teenager, trying his level best to maintain the understanding expression he was working hard to muster in the first place.

"It's my name," the boy replied, his tone becoming increasingly more bored by the second. "Hey, do you think we could hurry this 'absolution' thing up a little? I need to check my emails."

"Your… you need to… he needs to check his emails," Dean stated, chuckling in disbelief as he shot a look at Sam and hooked a thumb in the direction of Jay.

Suddenly, Dean rounded on the kid, his eyes flashing as he barked, "You hacked up a classmate in his bedroom with the dorm kitchenware. I don't think you're gonna be checking your inbox any time soon, pal."

Jay stared at Dean through suspiciously narrowed eyes, his hands falling to his sides as he sat up straighter.

"You sure you're a priest? I mean, you sound kind of 'judgey'," the boy accused, "shouldn't I be innocent until proven guilty?"

"You confessed," Dean retorted, his tone drenched in disbelief.

"Oh yeah."

Jay glanced away, unconcerned. Everything about his demeanour was calm and collected, and he appeared not in the least perturbed by either his situation or surroundings. Perhaps most worryingly, he was not at all remorseful for the crime he was less than shy at admitting he had carried out.

"Jay, can you give us any reason… any reason at all, as to why what you did… seemed like a good idea?" Sam asked, his upper lip curled as he forced out the latter half of his question through his distaste.

Jay pondered this for only a moment, "I don't know, why does anything seem like a good idea?!"

Sam lifted his chin, smiling tightly as he found himself lost for words. Dean however, was apparently not struck by the same affliction.

"Alright, Deepak Chokra," Dean held up his hand to halt any further philosophical musings, "this wasn't a sex tape or a Tweety Pie tattoo - you mean to tell us that you really have no idea why you ganked the guy?"

Jay narrowed his eyes, "Can I see your credentials? You guys got like, a Jesus card or something?"

"Look kid, we're here to help you okay? Do you know how much trouble you're in right now? They're gonna throw the book at you…" Dean suddenly held aloft the Bible in his hand for effect, "and not this one, I'm talking a way, way scarier book."

The young man shrugged, toeing the dust along the floor at his feet, "Doesn't that have like… brim stone, and death, and creepy plagues…"

At Dean's thoroughly testy expression, Jay paused to explain, "The Bible, man. I'm just saying, that's some scary shit right there. Especially, you know, for like, gay people and democrats?!"

Dean released a slow, agonisingly long sigh, before he turned his back and held both hands up as a gesture of surrender, "I'm done with this kid."

"Does that mean I'm absolved?" Jay pressed, barely moving from his position on the cot as he called out, "because I was kind of planning on finishing up college, maybe proposing to my girlfriend, becoming a pharmacist and stuff."

Dean wiped his palm down his jawline, shaking his head as he stared at the boy, who regarded him levelly.

"Sure, whatever, Jesus loves you," Dean answered, tapping Sam on the shoulder to signal that it was time to wrap up their conversation. He had begun to suspect that Jay Coleman was simply but completely insane, and he had long since lost any desire to remain in the boy's company.

"Wait… what about my emails?" Jay called out, finally clambering from the cot and taking a few steps towards Sam. "When can I pick up my emails?"

"Jay, you're in some pretty serious trouble here," Sam replied, jamming his hands into his pockets as he watched the boy, who seemed now to be hopping from one foot to the other in agitation. "I think you need to take a long, hard look at your priorities and…"

"No!" Jay suddenly yelled, his breathing beginning to grow erratic as his eyes darted from side to side. "I need to log in! I need to check my emails!"

"Hey, just kick it down a notch, pal," Dean barked, starting suddenly as, with a furious scream, Jay propelled himself across the cell and barrelled into the bars, reaching through and shoving Sam hard in the chest. Unprepared for the move, Sam toppled to the floor and his head hit the ground with a loud thwack. He bit down on the tip of his tongue, flashing lights beginning to dance in front of his eyes, although he was still aware of the footsteps of the officer as he ran back down the hall towards the commotion. Dean reached down towards his brother in concern, offering him an arm, which Sam clasped gratefully.

"Let's get the hell out of here, kid's a whackjob," Dean groused, smiling politely at the officer as he and Sam bowed their heads in a suitably respectful manner and made for the door, "officer, we really should be going now… God business."

"Oh, sure, sure. Well, you guys take care now, and thanks again for the donuts. You causing trouble in here, Coleman?" the officer bellowed, night stick poised in his hand as he addressed the now infuriated student.

"I need to check my emails!" the guy screamed, seemingly with no other burning thought than his desire to access his online accounts.

Inhaling deeply, Dean tugged at the collar that was now pinching his neck, as he and his brother stepped out of the building and onto the street. The cool breeze was most welcome, and Dean flapped the lengths of his robe against the wind, hoping to air out his now sweltering torso.

"Well that wasn't messed up at all," he stated, striding toward the Impala with renewed urgency as Sam unsnapped his own dog collar and tossed it in a trash can they passed.

"Guy seemed awfully concerned with checking his emails," Sam winced, "and… totally unconcerned with the fact he just hacked his dorm mate's head off."

"Yeah, I kind of caught that too," Dean smiled wryly, sliding behind the wheel of the car as Sam dropped down into the passenger seat, "I'm thinking maybe we need to see what's in that inbox."

"You mean we hack his email account?" Sam checked, leaning his head back against the headrest as Dean nodded in confirmation. "I guess I can try to access his college email. But, what exactly am I looking for, Dean?"

Pulling out of the parking space, Dean shrugged and glanced up in the rear view mirror, "Be damned if I know, Sammy boy. But something's got that kid all hyped up, and we need to figure out what that is."

Sam arched an eyebrow, already aware that the evening ahead involved almost no input at all from the older hunter, and that it would be he who invariably spent the next few hours industriously working away on the laptop. Dean and technology were never the most comfortable of companions.

"We?" Sam bit back a smile, looking up searchingly at the roof of the car.

Dean grinned, thoroughly smug, "Alright, mostly you."

Letting out a heavy sigh and wincing as his head throbbed, Sam retorted, "Fine. But you're shouting the pizza."

"Whatever the lady wants," Dean quipped, and gunned the engine, a smile on his face as he anticipated the evening ahead, and his thorough lack of involvement in any impending work.

**x-x-x**

It had taken Sam roughly thirty minutes to hack into Jay Coleman's email account. After trying the usual password traps that people tended to fall into, such as their girlfriend's name or their own date of birth, Sam had recalled the Star Trek t-shirt that the teen had sported, and new life had been breathed into his efforts. He had input dozens of possibilities from classic Trek, Generation, and even Voyager before he had realised that the kid's poor taste had meant the key lay with Deep Space Nine. When Sam had hit upon the correct passcode, his nose had wrinkled in disgust, and he had spent the better part of the next ten minutes ranting and railing to Dean and Jo. Scooby, declining to listen, had fallen asleep on top of Dean's duffel and was snoring like a freight train.

"Freakin' Sisko!" Sam spat indignantly for the twelfth consecutive time, still shaking his head as he considered the betrayal to Trekkies the world over. "That show sucked. The characters were boring, the plot devices were overall poor at best, and… and the uniforms made them look hippy."

Dean regarded his brother with a suitably amused smirk blooming on his features. Hooking his thumb in Sam's direction, he turned to Jo, "First world Geek problems."

Sam cleared his throat and tried to focus the snickering hunters' attention on the task at hand. "Alright, so let's see what we got."

Stabbing the down arrow repeatedly, Sam trawled through the unopened emails assembled in Jay Coleman's inbox. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, which usually implied something was most definitely amiss.

"eBay bids, emails from his mom..." Sam's brow furrowed as he continued down the list, "wow, this dude spends a lot of time on one of those social networking sites."

"That like a MySpace thing or something?" Dean queried, shooting Jo a wounded look as she rolled her eyes at him and folded her arms across her chest.

"Not exactly," Sam replied in amusement, not missing the opportunity to tease his sibling.

"Is it… porn?" Deam queried, striving to appear nonchalant even as he attempted to peer over Sam's shoulder at the screen.

Jo thwacked him across the back of the head, a sour frown plastered across her face as she glared at him.

"Kidding. I was kidding…" Dean appeased, rubbing at the stinging spot on his cranium. Jo merely shook her head, hiding her amused smile behind the façade of a stern look.

"Anything juicy in any of those emails?" Jo asked, leaning over Sam so she could get a better view of the screen. Sam shrugged, quickly double clicking on a closed email in order to bring it up into full view. It pinged open with an annoying bleep, revealing a message apparently from the site itself.

"'Terminate user'," Sam read aloud with a frown, starting slightly as the message then closed itself, "that's not at all suspicious."

"What about these others?" Jo queried, gesturing to several more emails from the same location that were all marked unread. The cursor hovered over them only momentarily before Sam clicked another virtual envelope, pulling the contents up onto the screen.

"Terminate user 4675894A," Jo read, an inexplicable shiver coursing down her spine.

Dean's eyes widened as Sam opened the first of the emails from the social networking site, and all three hunters exhaled in unison.

"Whoah!" Dean narrowed his eyes, as the image of the dead college boy suddenly filled the screen, accompanied by the same direction.

"Anyone want to bet that Riley Tambard was user 4675894A?" Jo glanced between the brothers, whose expressions had paled significantly.

"Aright, so what the hell are we dealing with here? This like some... Windows demon or something? Wait... do you think Bill Gates is a demon?" Dean appeared momentarily lost in thought, before he shook off his long-held suspicions and refocused his attention back to the case.

Sam typed away hurriedly at the keyboard, bringing up the home page of the social network in question.

"Either of you guys got a profile already?" Sam asked, knowing the odds were slim.

Dean laughed softly, "Sammy, I use the internet for two things, porn, and... no, I guess that's it."

"Not really my kind of thing, Sam," Jo shrugged, "crazy girls posing in their underwear posting endless selfies? Think I'll pass."

"Girls in their underwear?" Dean repeated, ducking to avoid the back of Jo's hand as she aimed another slap in his direction.

Catching her hand, he propelled her backwards, wrapping his arms around her waist as she huffed and leant back against his chest with feigned indifference.

"Come on, you know I only have eyes for one woman and her underwear," Dean murmured, his gaze sweeping Jo's body suggestively. She shook her head, but a smile crept across her lips nonetheless.

"You're a first class pervert, Dean," she accused, standing up straight and returning her attention to the laptop.

"What should we do now?" Sam mused, shooting a questioning glance from Dean to Jo and back again. The two hunters shrugged, Jo perching on the edge of the nearby bed, and Dean hunkering down at Sam's side.

"Let's create ourselves a fake profile and do some super sleuthing, gang," Dean stated with obvious glee, rubbing his hands together as he moved closer to the table. Sam raised his fingers from the keyboard and gestured to it, allowing Dean the free rein of the buttons that he so clearly craved.

It took Dean only minutes to discover the new user registry page, and mere seconds to formulate a cunning, highly amusing alias.

"Ivor Biggun?" Sam repeated, blinking in disbelief at his brother, who snickered at his own joke.

Jo snorted in amusement, but as a suitably derisive reply was about to leave her lips, Dean clamped his hand over her mouth and pointedly cleared his throat.

"Okay, so let's take a look…" Dean began, arching an eyebrow at Jo as he released her from his grip and she smirked to herself and batted his hands away from the laptop. Seizing control, Jo began to navigate down the page, a blonde eyebrow suddenly shooting up as she saw a box flash up at the corner of the screen.

"Jenna 'Bikini Queen' Jones wants to be your friend," she snorted derisively, glancing back at Sam as two further beeps alerted her to more friending requests, "as does 'Tinkerbell' Gibson and Princess Dani…"

"Well no kidding, look at that… 20 seconds on the site and the chicks are fallin' over their mouse mats to say 'hey'." Dean looked suitably pleased with himself and his efforts. The profile picture he had hastily selected seemed to be instantly appealing, and he couldn't help but smirk at his new found popularity.

"No doubt attracted by the subtle innuendo in his user name," Sam sighed wearily, sensing that this was going to be a long, drawn out process.

Watching Jo purse her lips as further requests filled his inbox, Dean gently brushed her hands away from the mouse pad and took a few moments to make an adaptation to his profile. Turning the laptop screen back around, Jo smiled as she saw that 'in a relationship' had now been added to the page.

"That's sweet, Dean-o," she replied, a grin fixed in place as she added, "you talking about me or your car?"

Dean shot Jo a glare and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows in preparation to begin typing with renewed gusto. He tapped away at the keys almost thoughtfully for a few moments, gnawing on his lip as he contemplated his next move.

"What exactly am I looking for here?" Dean inquired, finally turning to Sam, who screwed up his features as he debated the question.

"I guess you accept some friend requests, and snoop until you find something that looks like it could be worthwhile," answered Sam, throwing himself into a chair and hooking his hands behind his head.

"But… I… I mean, I don't know what I'm doing here," Dean all but whined, shooting a frown at Sam even as he readjusted his position in a bid to make himself more comfortable.

"It's a social network, Dean," Sam replied, fighting the grin that tugged at the corners of his lips, "be sociable."

"You're an asshat," Dean accused, scowling and turning his back on his brother, who giggled quietly before letting go a sigh of sheer contentment. Usually, Sam was the one manning the computer, and he did not intend to ignore the poetry of the situation as he watched an irate Dean with his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he wore an utterly clueless expression.

"Just… 'like' something," Sam suggested.

"Huh?" Dean's brow furrowed, " 'like'… what?"

Sam puffed his cheeks and shrugged, "I don't know… classic cars, rock music…"

Jo leant back in her chair, contemplating the ceiling as she continued on with Sam's train of thought, "Women, semi-naked women, naked women, scantily clad women… pie."

Dean rubbed his hands together gleefully, "The magic words… pie and hot women. Or women and hot pie."

Scooping up the laptop, Dean stalked over to the bed, plopping down against the head board before he patted the vacant space beside him and waited for Jo to join him. He cracked his fingers, bending and stretching them as if limbering up for the proceeding activities.

"You really expect me to sit here and watch whilst you Google 'hot women'?" Jo inquired, her head cocked as she examined Dean with scrutiny.

He shook his head, scoffing before he answered, "Of course not… this isn't Google, it's…"

Dean trailed off, squinting at the screen to read the name of the website before he finished, " 'Chat Pad'."

Jo merely thwacked him hard in the chest in response, beaming brightly as Dean let out an 'oof' that expressed his pain. Jo relaxed back against the pillows, and watched with more anxiousness than she would care to admit to as Dean began typing.

As a list of groups suddenly appeared on the screen, all featuring pictures of hot, baked desserts and lashings of whipped cream, Jo simply grinned and snuggled into Dean's side to watch as he immersed himself in the world of internet food porn.

**x-x-x**

Dean's eyes flashed open and he started as a loud ping from the laptop still balanced on his knee wrenched him from his slumber. Jo slept soundly at his side, stretched out on the bed and with one arm resting over her face. In the chair adjacent to the television, Sam almost sagged, his head lolling back and his mouth hanging open as he snored. Scooby had yet to move from his perch atop the duffel bags, and his long tongue poked out of his mouth as he continued to snore.

Squinting against the bright light emanating from the screen, Dean hoisted the computer closer and clicked on the flashing icon.

Another two friend requests awaited, both from fairly innocuous looking men who had obviously seen him join a classic car appreciation group. He accepted both requests, and began to skim their profiles. Pictures of girlfriends, drunken nights out, and an alarming number of cats wearing clothes greeted him, yet nothing seemed immediately unusual about either user.

Puffing out his cheeks, Dean exhaled in evident boredom as he scanned the second guy's home page. One particular sentence caught his eye, and as he read the man's latest status update, his eyes widened in realisation.

"Oh, shit..."

Reaching out blindly to his side, he tapped Jo on the thigh, receiving an irritated grumble from the sleeping blonde, who rolled away from his touch rather than wake.

"Hey, Jo?"

"What?" Jo groaned testily, wincing from behind her arm as she peered up at him in the darkness and awaited an explanation for having been so unceremoniously awoken.

"I think we got a problem," Dean stated, sighing as Jo mumbled unintelligibly and attempted to bury her face in the duvet.

"Ask Sammy… he's good with computers…" Jo muttered, her eyes fluttering closed and her breathing beginning to slow once again. This time, Dean poked her underneath her ribs, knowing that this hated gesture would not fail to rouse her fully. As predicted, Jo shot up, her features clouded with rage and her lips set in a snarl.

Dean held up both hands in defence and took a step back, "I found something, and if I'm right, we got about ten minutes to get our asses back onto campus and break into a frat house before some unsuspecting pledge gets shoved face first into the garbage disposal."

Jo opened her mouth, her rage dissipating, and simply began moving off the bed to gather her jacket and discarded boots.

Dean closed the laptop and grabbed up his car keys before pulling on his boots and catching the jacket Jo tossed toward him.

"Sam?" Jo tried to rouse the snoring Winchester, whose chin was now pressed against his own chest.

"Sam?" Jo said more urgently, wincing as Dean suddenly strode past and deftly thwacked his brother across the back of the head.

"Up and at 'em, Sammy," Dean drawled, stifling a yawn as he held the door open and looked expectantly at his brother.

Sam blinked in confusion, rubbing his eyes as he stood up from the chair, grateful that he hadn't seen fit to remove his shoes before falling asleep.

"Dean, what's going on?" he asked groggily, sighing as Dean foisted his jacket at him and it hit him square in the chest.

"Thanks," Sam replied tightly, now somewhat more awake but just as confused.

"Somebody want to tell me where we're going at..." Sam glanced at his watch and disgust painted his features, "3am?"

"You're gonna be joining a fraternity. So, let's roll, before they give out the last of the togas."

Sam topped dead in his tracks, "What?"

Shaking his head, he strode off after Dean, who was already halfway across the parking lot when Sam caught up to him.

"I... What?"

"Whilst you two cherubs were busy catching up on your beauty sleep, I was online being subjected to a billion pictures of pets wearing dresses, and getting messaged by chicks who post photos of themselves doing that creepy duck-face thing whilst wearing an entire catalogue of Mary Kay products," Dean ranted, holding up his hand to Jo as she seemed poised to protest, "then some guy 'friend requests' me, and next thing I know I'm looking at the status of this college kid that says he's going to 'terminate' some other user. Sound familiar?"

Sam cleared his throat and nodded, "Yeah."

The three hunters clambered into the car, and Jo shot a fretful glance back at the closed and locked door of their room.

"Do you think Scooby will be ok on his own?" she worried aloud, her concern genuine as she peered across the darkness at Dean, who nodded.

"He'll be fine, I'm sure he'll find some socks to maul or something, if he ever awakens from the coma he seems to have slipped into," Dean answered, squinting at his cell as he added, "and right now, I think we should be a little more concerned about User 9482331J."

Jo accepted the phone that Dean tossed at her and examined the screen, which was now filled by the homepage of 'Chat Pad'. A picture of a tall, broad young man wearing a basketball jersey and beaming at the camera stared back at her, and beneath his cryptic status, a new message flashed up quickly; user terminated.

Dean threw the gearstick into reverse, and the Impala tyres spun as the car careered out of the parking lot.

**x-x-x**

Since Dean had no idea where the strongly suspected murder might be taking place, he had simply set out for the fraternity house where Wesley Tinton resided and hoped that luck was on his side. As soon as the Impala had pulled up to the curb outside the sprawling white washed house, it had become apparent that Dean's instincts had not failed him. Young men, and a few young women, most clad in a mixture of boxer shorts and white sheets, spilled out the door in a panic, their screams and cries making an unimaginable din.

The hunters flung themselves out of the car, Dean not bothering to lock it, and Jo already resting a hand on the small gun she kept concealed in a holster beneath her shirt on her hip.

Sam reached out and grabbed the bare shoulder of a teenager in the obvious throws of sheer terror, and forced the boy around to meet his gaze. Sam shook the kid a little, just hard enough to get his attention, and leaned into his face.

"What's happened?" snarled Sam and, faced with the tall, bulky and utterly imposing Winchester literally growling at him, the boy seemed to sober up a little.

"New pledge… he… he just went crazy… I mean… oh God, he… Frankie…" the boy babbled, tears beginning to spill from behind his thick lashes and run down his cheeks. Sam released the boy, and he wasted no time in following in the frenzied wake of his companions in a bid to escape the scene.

Pushing their way through the throngs of students, the hunters stepped into the hall of the frat house and were instantly met with the sight of gore spattered across the otherwise pristine walls.

Jo readied herself as her gaze swept across the splashes and pools of blood, until she eventually found herself staring at the victim. Or at least a part of him.

Dean pressed the back of his hand against his mouth as he too discovered the severed head sitting in the centre of a punch bowl, slices of orange somewhat comically bobbing around it.

"Dude, that's just..." he grimaced in disgust, suddenly realising that the perpetrator could not be far away and was quite obviously wielding something decidedly sharp and pointy to have caused such damage.

"Dean?" Sam called across the hall, taking small steps toward the living room, which was decorated with tables of food and beer kegs, and strewn with what looked like a year's supply of toilet paper.

Dean and Jo followed cautiously behind, each of them now having drawn their guns.

Sitting in the centre of the couch was another student, apparently oblivious to the evening's events. Apparently nonplussed, he played on a games console with a red paper cup gripped between his teeth.

"Uh… hey?" Dean attempted, his tone neither confrontational nor certain as he wandered into the lounge. Furniture lay overturned and broken across the room, and the carpet was sodden in places with dark red liquid that Dean could tell from the stench was more blood. However, the boy continued to play his game, a smile twitching at his lips as the cartoon character he controlled on the screen gobbled up enormous gold coins.

"There's punch in the bowl," the boy directed, not breaking his keen gaze from the television. Jo swallowed down the bile that rose in the back of her throat at the prospect, and deliberately avoided shooting a second glance at the refreshment table.

"Yeah, I'll pass," Dean responded, not missing a beat. He heard a soft click behind him and knew without a doubt that Sam had raised his handgun and aimed it at the boy, who did not seem to be an immediate threat anymore. Dean recognised his face from the picture, and he wracked his brain to recall the name of the boy.

"It's… uh… Wesley, right?" Dean attempted, motioning with one hand for Sam to position himself out of the boy's eyeline, just in case the presence of the gun sparked off yet another episode.

"Wes, only my Mom calls me Wesley," the boy corrected, his tone flat even as he added, "you guys want punch? It's really good."

Purposefully avoiding glancing anywhere near the punch bowl, Jo smiled tightly, "We're uh... not real big drinkers."

"Suit yourself!" Wesley replied, casting a half-hearted gaze over the three hunters, "wasn't this like a toga party? What's with the whole lumber jack thing you got going on here?"

Dean stole a glance at his shirt and cleared his throat indignantly, "How about we ask the questions, huh buddy?"

Wesley let out a growl and hurled the game controller onto the couch beside him, "I'm never gonna make it to level fifteen!"

Sam's expression betrayed his bewilderment as he nodded in understanding, "That's a tough break."

"So, about the headless guy whose entrails are decorating the hallway..." Dean began, finding that this somewhat successfully captured the young man's attention.

"That your handy work out there?" Dean continued, stepping back cautiously as Wesley stood up and dug his hands in his pockets.

He shrugged and simply bobbed his head, "Frankie? Yeah, that was me."

Dean and Jo exchanged pointed stares, as their suspect reached down and grabbed a handful of peanuts from a bowl on a nearby table. The table was littered with empty chip bags and overturned cups of beer, all of which were now dribbling onto the pale coloured carpet below.

"Okay. And you hacked off the guy's noggin because?" Dean widened his eyes and bent to catch the petulant student's glassy stare.

Wesley puffed out his cheeks and exhaled, "Guess it just seemed like the right thing to do."

"The right thing to do?" Sam repeated.

Wesley pondered this for a few moments before he smiled good-naturedly, "Uh... sure."

"That doesn't seem at all… odd, to you?" Dean pressed, staring down the pledge, who was still clad in a bedsheet that had been poorly fashioned into a toga.

Wes shook his head, his expression neutral and his posture calm.

"So… where'd everybody else go?" Wes inquired, finally looking around him and realising that the house was deserted save for himself and three strangers. "I thought we were pulling an all-nighter?"

"I guess not everyone has your dedication," Jo replied dryly, a shudder running through her as her eyes befell the stained wall opposite her.

"Ok, well, we gotta be going," Dean stated as the sound of sirens approaching began to fill his ears, and he realised it would be best that they make a speedy exit in case Faye was not amongst the arresting officers. Sam and Jo were already backing towards the door, and Dean followed quickly, shooting furtive glances at Wes every few seconds.

"I guess I'll just… wait right here…" Wes said, slumping back onto the couch and reaching for the game controller again. As the television screen once more burst into life, bright and loud, Dean shook his head at the absurdity of the situation. The three hunters piled out of the door, harbouring little concern that Wes would attempt to make any kind of escape, or resist his impending arrest. If anything, he seemed remarkably compliant, and Dean was now damn near certain that whatever was causing the boy's behaviour was linked to their mystery website.

Once the Impala had crawled around the block and was out of sight of the ever increasing crowds, the hunters took the opportunity to stop and take stock of recent events, mainly the ever increasing body count.

"Well that's just not normal." Jo stared blankly ahead, her arms folded across her chest.

"Nope," Dean turned a corner, drumming his fingertips on the steering wheel.

Sam sat silently in the backseat, his brow furrowed as he tried to process exactly what he had just witnessed, and formulate a suitable explanation for it. All evidence seemed to point in one direction.

Their social network was proving to be anything but social.

* * *

><p><strong>A. N. - We suck. We'd like that term to apply directly to our relationship with Sam and Dean, but it doesn't. We just suck. Apologies for the appalling lack of updates on our part, but we can promise you that we never give up on a fic. You know what makes us write faster? Reviews. Pretty, pretty reviews. Thank you kindly, folks.<strong>


	39. Chapter 39

_**Episode 13 – Part 3**_

'_**The Unsocial Network'**_

_**x-x-x**_

The hunters had returned to their motel to find a rather large puppy sprawled on its back across the bed, and a pair of familiar brown walking boots lying in a mangled, chewed heap on the floor. Sam had simply glared at the dog, before dropping his ruined shoes into the trash whilst Dean chuckled. Scooby appeared unconcerned by the venom with which Sam was now regarding him, and let out a contented grumble as he settled his head into the lap of his new mistress.

Jo fondled the dog's ears, but her attention was directed at Dean, who was busily tapping away at the laptop once again in a bid to uncover some new evidence. After leaving the police to deal with the scene of carnage at the frat house, the trio had decided to debate their next move back at their temporary base. Dean had jumped straight back online to begin trawling for suspicious activity, whilst Sam used his cell to call Faye and glean any information about her latest arrest.

"Ok, well, if we find anything at all, we'll give you a call," Sam promised, finishing up the call finally. He made several more quiet noises of affirmation before stabbing the disconnect button and tossing his mobile onto the nearby bed.

"Nothing helpful?" Jo queried, Sam's frustrated expression answering her question even before he could. He shook his head, and moved to stand behind Dean so that he could examine the computer screen.

"You pull up anything else out of the ordinary?" asked Sam, resting one hand on Dean's shoulder as he leaned forwards and peered at the newsfeed.

"Not as far as I can tell," Dean answered, although his tone was somewhat uncertain. "Unless you count an inordinate amount of chain letters?"

Sam paused a moment, his tone interested as he prompted, "They seem demonic?"

"Nah, just the regular kind of annoying," said Dean, stifling a yawn as he glanced over his shoulder at his girlfriend, who was grinning as she massaged Scooby's belly. The dog kicked it's legs in the air in appreciation, rolling to and fro amongst the sheets and spreading hair everywhere.

"Well, there's two things the victims and the perps have in common so far," Jo began, pausing long enough to shoot a look at Dean and Sam, "they're all college students, and they're all members of this… 'Talk Space'… thing."

" 'Chat Pad'," Dean corrected automatically.

"Whatever," Jo replied, not missing a beat as she continued, "since both the killers received messages from the website telling them to go postal, I think it's a safe bet that our problem lies with the website. So… why not go direct to the source?"

Dean mulled this over for a second before pointing in her direction.

"What she said," he declared, nodding in ready agreement.

Sam shrugged, happy to have any direction in which to take their current case, "Do we know where the office is? Do they even have one in... "

The hasty tapping of Dean's fingers against the keys made Sam pause in his tracks, and his older sibling nodded encouragingly as the information quickly materialised.

"Okay, so there's a regional office here. 221 Main Street. I say we pay them a little visit."

Jo yawned, raising a hand to her mouth as she did so, "This a daytime kind of visit, or the kind we could potentially get arrested for?"

Dean grinned, rubbing his hands together gleefully, "Where's your sense of adventure, Harvelle?!"

Scooby grumbled regretfully as Jo's hand left his belly, and he peered over at Dean with his furry eyebrows knit into a frown of annoyance.

"Mutt stays here," Dean directed, smiling exuberantly at his brother as he added, "Sammy, go get the tools. I feel a little breaking and entering coming on."

Less than forty minutes later, the hunters stood on Main Street, peering up in confusion at the pizzeria that stood before them instead of the office block they had anticipated. Sam clutched the black bag containing the crowbar and other assorted tools with an almost regretful expression upon his face. Like Dean, he appreciated the chance to break and enter on occasion, but it seemed that the opportunity had tonight passed them both by.

"You sure you got the right address?" Jo whispered, pulling her jacket further up around her in a bid to thwart the brisk wind.

"Positive," Sam replied, shaking his head in confusion as he hoisted the bag back up onto his shoulder.

"Well, what do we do now? I doubt the answers lie in a deep pan pepperoni," Jo complained, rapidly beginning to feel her lack of sleep catching up with her mood.

Dean simply shrugged, too tired himself to begin formulating a decent plan. He glanced at Sam, his gaze questioning, and the younger Winchester let out a heavy breath.

"Head back, grab coffee, rethink our strategy," Sam stated, his tone flat and despondent.

An hour later and the trio were once again assembled in the rather cramped motel room, complete with a boisterous Great Dane who was still celebrating the stroll around the block his new mistress has treated him to.

Dean winced as the dog repeatedly tried to lay his head in his lap, and he firmly but gently pushed him away, "Hey mutt, go lay down."

Jo rolled her eyes, smiling at the adoring animal, who instead snuffled his way over to her and closed his eyes as she began rubbing his ears.

"Ohh, you're just saying thanks for your walk, aren't you, handsome?" glancing pointedly at her boyfriend, she added, "even though we didn't need daddy to come along."

Dean bristled at both the use of the word 'daddy' and the fact the dog's thumping tail was threatening to knock the half empty pizza box off of the table beside him.

"It's not a great area. I didn't want you walking around out there alone, okay?"

Jo arched an eyebrow, "Dean, I decapitate creatures of darkness on a regular basis, and my aim's better than yours, sweetheart."

Dean merely swallowed and scratched his neck as he replied, "I wasn't worried about you... I was uh... worried about him."

Jo laughed, finally managing to persuade the dog to settle down on the floor beside her, and she deftly swiped up the pizza box before lifting a lukewarm slice of pizza to her lips.

The sudden crackling of the police scanner that Sam was currently toying with caught her attention, and she swatted at him as she quickly tried to chew and swallow her food. Sam yawned and dutifully did as she directed, wiping his free hand over his face to try to sweep the weariness away.

"Hey, turn that up!" Jo exclaimed. She sat upright, pausing with the pizza still in her hand as the three hunters all listened to the details being exchanged between the squad car and their controllers.

Jo wore a deep frown as she listened to the dispatcher calling for a car to attend a homicide, which unsurprisingly had not long occurred on the college campus. The hunters exchanged looks, Jo raising her slice of pizza back to her mouth as she mulled over the conundrum their current case was proving.

"Another stiff… that's just… swell," Dean growled, clearly frustrated as he stood up and began to pace the expanse of the room. One hand rubbed the nape of his neck, and his brows knit together as he mentally ran through every last detail they had been fed since arriving in town.

"Should we…?" Sam inquired, pointing at the scanner with one finger. Dean only shook his head, too irritated to answer.

"We're too late anyway," Jo conceded after swallowing another chunk of pizza, "and it's not like we've managed to extract any useful information from the killers so far."

Sam nodded his agreement and, sighing in reluctant defeat, switched off the scanner. For several minutes, the room remained perfectly silent, as Dean paced and Sam and Jo sat staring at their own hands. With little new information to go on, and nothing in the way of actual supernatural evidence, the hunters were on the brink of giving up and letting the local cops mop up the remainder of the messes. Defeat was not usually an option for Team Free Will, but short of remaining in town for the coming months until they hit lucky on the evidence front, Dean could see no other alternatives.

"Why do I feel like we're missing something?" Jo groaned, smiling as her sudden shift of weight in her chair caused Scooby to raise his head and peer at her hopefully.

The three hunters all sat in silence, each mulling over the situation with varying levels of concentration and pained contemplation. Sam suddenly reached into his pocket, and before either Dean or Jo could ask what he was doing, he had already punched in the number and was awaiting a response.

"Hi Sophia," Sam smiled slightly at the sound of her voice, yet he quickly recovered and hid his happiness behind a cough, "I was wondering if you could do me a favour? Can you log into 'Chat Pad' and look something up for me?"

A brief pause heralded her reply, and he continued, "Great. I want you to see if you can find a couple of profiles for me…"

Jo sat up straighter, pulling the arms of her sweater down over her hands as she shivered against a slight chill in the air. Scooby grumbled and swatted a paw over his nose as he rolled over, eliciting a smirk from Dean who had been watching the animal and his mass of slobbery jowls.

Sam paced the floor as he continued to speak, and when he finally hung up the phone, his smile was promising and yet also conveyed his confusion.

"Alright, so what did your girlfriend have to say? She turn up anything useful?" Dean asked, grinning at the faintly embarrassed expression that crossed Sam's features.

"She's not my girlfriend…" Sam began in earnest.

"Whatever, dude," Dean replied, chortling to himself as he opened a can of coke and took a long swig of the pleasantly cold liquid.

"Sophia already has a 'Chat Pad' profile," Sam explained, choosing to take the moral high ground and ignore Dean's taunting, "she mentioned it a couple weeks back. So anyway, since all the recent murders seem to be local to Seattle, I thought I'd have her check something out for me."

"Well come on, Sammy, I'm hanging on your every word here," Dean said, his impatience obvious as he stared at his brother, who appeared nonplussed.

"Sophia searched for the profiles of every victim and every murderer, and as I kind of expected, she couldn't find a single one of them across the entire site," Sam stated, sitting back in a chair with a triumphant look spread across his features.

"How can that be?" Jo inquired, not fully understanding the implication of the information Sam had managed to uncover.

"Well," Sam began, sucking in a hesitant breath, "since Dean set his location to Seattle, and he managed to find every profile, all I can think of is some kind of… I don't know, mystical internet boundary spell … thing…"

"Really?" Dean stated, staring askance at his brother, "a Stanford education, and that's all you got?"

Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean, but refused to rise to the bait as he continued, "In short, I think everyone in Seattle who thinks they're signing up to 'Chat Pad' is signing up to something else entirely. Something not quite as user friendly."

"So this thing is local," Dean stated with a nod, "alright, that makes sense. So now what? I mean we've been to the offices, and got squat. How do we find this thing?"

"You think it's a demon?" Jo asked, frowning as she added, "like a really vicious computer virus?!"

Sam smiled slightly, "I don't know, but whatever it is, we need to find it fast."

Dean was about to speak, but paused as the laptop he had flung haphazardly onto the bed began to beep to herald the arrival of a new message.

Imagining it to be yet another greeting from a bikini clad college senior, Dean hauled the computer across the bed and onto his lap before he opened the lid with a bored sigh.

"Looks like Barbiegirl1991 has found those spring break pictures," he yawned, rubbing his eyes as he clicked on the message icon.

However, as Dean's eyes befell the screen, there was only a second's pause before he jerked back, his expression faintly alarmed.

"Uh… I think we got another problem here," he muttered, suddenly spinning the laptop around so that both Sam and Jo could see the message now spread across the screen, flashing almost angrily.

"Terminate user 3973329M," Jo read, her nose wrinkled in confusion as she glanced back at Dean, "who's user 3973329M?"

Dean swallowed hard, shaking his head as he answered gruffly, "I am."

There was a moment of silence, where even Scooby appeared to fall into an unnatural kind of hush as the information was digested by all present. Finally, Jo let out the breath she had been holding, and Sam leaned forward in his seat, massaging the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"Wait, this thing… it just ordered you to terminate yourself?" Jo demanded finally, her eyes widening as she shook her head and stared at Dean as though he was already on the brink of a mental breakdown.

"Looks like," Dean replied, closing the screen quickly. "I guess it's too late to skip town?"

"Ok, let's think about this logically," Sam stated, grabbing a notepad and pencil from the desk as he began to talk animatedly, "there's about a million and one things that could be doing this, so our focus needs to be where to find whatever or whoever it is, then we take them out for good."

Dean nodded, although he knew his grasp on all things technological was limited.

"Is there any way we can track this thing through those…" he clicked his fingers in the air as if trying to summon the words that escaped him, "IP things?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't know… I'm gonna call Garth and see if any of his tech buddies can help us out. In the meantime, I guess you should stay away from that thing."

"Seriously dude, you don't have to put me on suicide watch, okay? I'm not about to slice and dice myself," Dean sniggered, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs at the ankles as if to prove how relaxed he were on this particular point.

Jo and Sam glanced between each other, before the former stood up resolutely and walked over to Dean, sitting astride his knee as she eyed him dubiously.

Dean's brows shot up in surprise, but he grinned as his hands quickly settled on her waist. However his suggestive comments died on his tongue as Jo leant back and slid her hand under the leg of his jeans, deftly removing the sheathed dagger she knew he kept there. The gun in his back pocket soon followed, and she dropped both in Sam's outstretched hands.

"Jo, seriously…" Dean began, frowning as Jo placed her finger against his lips and leant in close, only to then replace her finger with her lips.

"Let's agree on 'better safe than sorry', hmm?" Jo suggested before she clambered off his knee and carried the laptop away to the bed.

"Jo's right, Dean," Sam said, watching his brother through carefully narrowed eyes, although Dean seemed the very picture of comfort and relaxation in that moment.

"Fine, I guess I'll just sit tight, eat pizza, and watch a game show marathon," Dean grumbled, shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation. "Just hurry it up, Sammy, because the sooner we blow this popsicle stand, the better."

"Couldn't agree more," Sam muttered as he walked towards the window with his cell phone clutched in one hand.

Jo took a seat beside Dean and kicked off her boots, vowing not to take her eyes off the hunter for more than a second. Even though Dean was currently showing no signs of the mania that had apparently descended on the others, given his physical abilities and hunting prowess, Jo reasoned that he could most probably fashion a weapon out of something as innocuous as a pizza box and a balled up sock.

Leaning back against the pillows of the bed, Jo laid her head against Dean's shoulder and nodded toward the TV, "So, what are we watching?"

As Dean flicked with gleeful enthusiasm to a re-run of Baywatch, Jo wondered if perhaps she should be the one on suicide watch.

**x-x-x**

Sam stifled a yawn and shifted his cell from one ear to the other, all the while straining to make out the somewhat muffled voice from the other end.

"Look, Garth, I appreciate I haven't given you a lot to work with here but…" Sam began, attempting to interrupt the other hunter for the seventh consecutive time in as many minutes.

"Naw, naw, man," Garth said hurriedly, oblivious to the loud sigh that Sam emitted as he leaned back against the wall, preparing to listen to another tirade.

"I wish I could help, I really do, Sam," continued Garth, "but the only guy I can make contact with that might know a little something…"

"It's okay, Garth, really," Sam interjected, "we'll figure it out."

"You always do," Garth replied, not missing a beat, his tone bearing forced jovialness.

Across the room, Sam watched Jo busily typing away at the laptop as she desperately tried to find any contact or common thread that linked the victims or their killers. She paused only to take a sip of soda or cast a pointed glance in Dean's direction, although the older Winchester slept peacefully, leaning against the headboard of the bed. There had been very little to cause concern all evening, and the three had spent the last few hours watching TV, drinking copious amounts of caffeinated beverages, and trying to uncover a lead on the hunt.

Jo ignored Sam's pacing as he chatted on the phone, but the sound of bedsprings behind her instantly caught her attention. Strolling past her toward the bathroom, Dean remained silent as he closed the door behind him.

With her fingers poised on the keyboard of the laptop, Jo started suddenly at the clearly discernable sound of breaking glass, which prompted both her and Sam to run toward the bathroom door.

"Dean?" she yelled, jiggling the handle but to no avail, "Dean? What's going on?"

Sam snapped his phone closed and tossed it onto the bed, as he jarred the door repeatedly with his shoulder. Realising it was not about to give way, Sam took a few steps back and levelled a kick at the centre of the wooden panel. Jo held up her arm to cover her face, and the door instantly splintered off it's hinges, sending Dean stumbling backwards. Jo gasped and her eyes widened as she saw him holding a shard of broken mirror against his wrist, as if preparing to slice into his own skin.

Sam and Jo barrelled into the room, and it took both of them to restrain the thrashing hunter and drag his struggling form back into the bedroom.

"Sweetheart, we talked about this…" Jo grunted as she wrestled with Dean and attempted to aid Sam in nudging him towards the bed, "you promised you'd tell us when you started to feel suicidal."

Sam shot a look at the blonde hunter, one eyebrow arched and his head cocked in partial disbelief, but his amusement lasted only seconds as Dean aimed a swift kick to his groin.

"Dean! Not cool, man," Sam chided, managing to deftly side step the blow Dean had attempted to deliver.

"Will you guys just knock it off?" Dean demanded, his voice drenched in anger as he flung his arms in circles in a desperate bid to cast both Jo and Sam aside, "this is the only way. I have to terminate my account!"

"Dean, don't be crazy, dude," Sam appeased his brother, "you don't really mean this."

"I'm serious, Sammy," Dean yelled back, trying in vain to stamp on his brother's nearby foot in a further effort to fend off his captors, "dead serious, in fact."

"Puns? Really?" demanded Sam, shaking his head as he pushed Dean's solid form closer to the bed, and thus a safe place to secure him.

"I violated the user agreement," Dean insisted, his voice growing more shrill and frenzied by the minute, "I need to terminate my account."

"Handcuffs?" Jo queried, struggling to keep both of Dean's arms held behind his back as Sam tackled him onto the mattress.

"Right here," Sam answered, pausing only momentarily to slip the pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket. Dean appeared to regroup and renew his struggles at the sight of the restraints, wrenching one arm free from Jo's hold long enough to deliver a sharp elbow to her face. Jo let out a hiss of pain as Dean's forearm collided with her cheekbone, and in retaliation, she pulled back her balled fist and slugged him hard in the jaw. The loud crack the blow yielded brought Jo a brief pang of retaliatory satisfaction.

"That hurt, asshat," she growled in protest, helping Sam to fasten the cuffs around Dean's left wrist then to loop them around the headboard before clicking the final metal bracelet onto his right wrist.

Dean struggled against the cuffs, strangely unconcerned with his own actions or the bruise rapidly forming on his face, but instead infuriated by Sam and Jo's attempts to thwart him.

"Will you two chuckleheads just let me go?" he sighed in irritation, struggling against the restraints and then wincing as the motion jarred the cuffs on his wrists.

"This is bad," Sam muttered under his breath, glancing sideways at Jo who was staring at Dean in a combination of horror and utter fury.

Jo nodded, planting her hands on her hips and trying her best to ignore the dull throb that had started up in her cheekbone. Once they had saved Dean's ass, she fully intended to make him pay.

Dean eyed them closely, his features clouded with a strange expression of confusion, as though he seemed genuinely surprised by their reactions.

"Look, I just need to do this, okay?" he attempted to reason with them, although little of what he said made even the slightest shred of sense.

"Why?" Sam questioned, curious about the strange air of acceptance that seemed to befall the victims of the site. Dean puffed his cheeks out and shrugged, and Sam felt compelled to just slap him repeatedly across the face in an attempt to force him out of his altered state.

"Why? I don't know. I just have to do it," Dean mused, "which isn't gonna happen unless you two quit playing good cop, bad cop, and just let me go!"

"Not gonna happen, Winchester," Jo stated, turning and suddenly rooting through their bags before producing two neckties.

"Sam, hold his legs," she directed, her jaw set as she grabbed each of Dean's legs in turn and tied his ankles to the bottom of the bed posts even as he thrashed and kicked out like a petulant toddler having a tantrum.

"Dean, I swear to God, if you kick me in the face too, suicide is going to be the least of your problems," Jo growled, finishing tying the final knot with a look of triumph spread across her face. She straightened up and turned back to Sam, who was watching Dean flounder uselessly against his bonds with a thoughtful expression.

"Garth didn't have anything helpful to add," Sam explained, turning away from his brother for the moment to address Jo, "and obviously we have to move quickly now before Virginia Wolf here breaks loose."

"What are you thinking, Sam?" Jo queried, grabbing the other hunters elbow and steering him towards the bathroom for some relative privacy. She had no concept of how whatever madness afflicted Dean worked, but she certainly did not want to risk any shred of a plan they possessed being overheard.

"You sit tight here and watch Dean, and I'll call up Faye and see if we can head over to the University to talk to someone," he explained in a deliberately low voice, "there has to be an ICT professor clued up enough to help us trace this thing. Once we've traced it, we can work out what to do from there, hopefully before anyone else winds up dead."

"He's clearly lost his God damned mind. He's tied to a bed. He hasn't even tried to make a sleazy joke," Jo said as she glanced up at Sam helplessly.

Sam smiled kindly and placed his hand on her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze and mustering his most confident smile, "Don't worry, Jo. We'll fix this. He'll be back to his usual, perverted self in no time, I promise."

Jo nodded somewhat sadly.

"I'll watch him. You see what you can find out." She winced as Scooby suddenly climbed to his feet and strolled over to the bed, tail wagging. Arching his back and pausing only to yawn, the hound leapt up onto the mattress, tail thumping happily.

"Scooby, no!" Jo said firmly, trying to usher the enormous dog away as he swept his giant, slobbery tongue up Dean's face.

Watching Dean's horrified expression, and placing her fingertips gingerly to her aching cheek, Jo was suddenly struck by a satisfying sense of karma. She stepped back and instead perched on the chair beside the bed, resigned to let him suffer.

"Knock yourself out, Scoobs," she said wryly, folding her arms across her chest and holding back a laugh as the dog reacted with delight to Dean's twisting, writhing, and yelling response as if it were a game.

"I'll… er… I'll be back soon," Sam promised, frowning as he directed a look at his brother, and then back at Jo, who smirked from her chair.

Raising one hand to wave Sam off, Jo called out, "Take your time."

**x-x-x**

"Dr. Ronwe said he'd do his best to help," Faye stated as she and Sam pushed through the doorways of the University halls, moving at a near run towards the top floor office that was their ultimate destination.

"Do you know the guy well?" asked Sam, pausing to read the signs affixed to the wall that directed them towards the computer science department. Gently, he took hold of Faye's elbow and began to steer her back on their course, thankful when she appeared to pick up her pace a little more as she sensed his urgency.

"He only started at the University back in October, so I've never dealt with the guy personally, but he came highly recommended by a colleague," she explained, finally hooking her thumb in the direction of a closed doorway at the end of the corridor. "Room 208. That's us."

Sam nodded, balling his hand into a fist and wasting no time in rapping sharply on the door.

"Dr. Ronwe?" he called out, "are you in there? Dr. Ronwe?"

Persistent knocks on the door failed to prompt a response, so Sam slowly turned the handle, unsurprised to find it was locked. He fished in his pocket before he retrieved two small tools and swiftly unlocked the door, as Faye stepped forward and removed her gun from the holster.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't see that," Faye stated, as Sam dropped the 'breaking and entering' tool kit back into his pocket and withdrew his own firearm.

Sam swung the door openly slowly, and both he and Faye scrambled inside, each sweeping the room as they ascertained whether its inhabitant was present or not. The office was full of stacks of papers and books, with vast towers of tomes and texts reaching halfway to the ceiling, all caked in a thin layer of dust. Pictures of intricate symbols and carvings hung from the walls, and Sam was surprised to find that a number of them were familiar from his studies of John Winchester's journal. He shrugged off his own growing sense of unease and pushed aside the gnawing feeling of doubt that had come to join it.

The desk was littered with an array of relics and student documents, and Sam removed a pencil from stationary pot to poke around the items on display.

Faye attempted to open the drawer under the desk, simply wincing as it refused to give, and using the handle of her gun to strike down against it and shatter the lock.

Sam's eyes widened and Faye simply retorted, "What? You want to wait until we got a warrant?"

"Now I see why you and Dad got along so well," Sam observed with a small smile of nostalgia.

"Your father wasn't renowned for playing well with others," agreed Faye, giving a shrug as she pulled open the drawer.

"Excuse me, but what is the meaning of this?" a small, heavy set man demanded as he stepped from the shadows behind a filing cabinet. He was balding and bespectacled, and leaned heavily on a thick, wooden walking stick. He took a step forward, the stick striking a pile of papers and scattering them across the room, and Faye straightened up, lowering her gun to her side.

"Dr. Ronwe?" she inquired, stepping forward and offering her hand to the man, who chose to ignore the gesture coming from the woman who appeared to have broken into his office. The detective frowned and withdrew her hand, her gaze ticking to Sam.

"Yes. Now, will you kindly explain to me why you appear to have entered my office without my permission?" Dr Ronwe demanded, taking another halting but evidently angry step forwards. Hesitantly, Sam lowered his gun and slipped it into his pocket, deciding that the professor was unlikely to respond well to the sight of the weapon.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Ronwe, that was my fault," Sam stated, his tone polite and his head bowed suitably in repent, "we're working on a spate of murders in the area, and I'm sure you can understand that time is of the essence."

Dr. Ronwe nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully with one hand as he listened to the hunter.

"My secretary mentioned that the sheriff's department had been in touch," the professor finally conceded, shooting a frown at Faye as he stepped further into his own office, "I don't see how I can be of assistance, but I will try my best. Was there something specific you were wanting?"

Faye nodded, uncertain of just how much information the professor had been privy to.

"It seems that the murder victims and their attackers were all members of a certain online social networking site," she began, ignoring Sam as he continued to nonchalantly peer at the papers littering the desk and those pinned to the wall around the office.

"I assume most young people are members of one or many of those sites, detective… I'm not sure I can shed any light on the technological habits of youngsters these days."

Faye paused, clearing her throat as she added uncomfortably, "It seems that it was messages from the site that prompted these kids to kill. Do you know how that could be possible? Like, some sort of mind control?"

The old man rubbed the back of his head and smiled, casting his gaze to Sam as the younger man appeared to be reading the papers before him with interest, and a worrying expression of comprehension.

"Your young partner there needs to learn to respect people's privacy," the professor said gruffly, "when you've quite finished rifling through my possessions, perhaps I would be more inclined to assist you."

Sam's brow furrowed as his gaze swept the images and symbols on the page, and a strange sense of recollection began to wash over him. Turning to the professor with wide eyes, Sam surveyed the man analytically.

"It's you," Sam stated with a note of resounding confidence, "you're the one behind all of this."

Faye took a step back and placed her hand on her gun, knowing never to doubt the word of a Winchester in such matters. In all the years she had known John, he had never once steered her wrong, and her gut was telling her that his son would undoubtedly prove just as sharp.

"What are you?" Faye demanded uneasily.

Dr. Ronwe smiled, although it was both an uncertain and reptilian gesture. His brown eyes creased at the corners, and his mouth twisted further upwards until it was stretched into an impossibly wide grin that displayed a row of broken, yellowed teeth. The bridge of his nose began to flatten and grow more bulbous, and several of the buttons on his shirt popped without warning as his whole body swelled until he stood at an even height to Sam. His skin had adopted a more leathery look and a brownish hue that had not before been apparent, and Sam heard Faye swallow down her fear in a gulp.

The former professor still seemed to require his stick to lean upon, and finally, Sam slapped his own forehead in frustrated epiphany.

"Ronove," he spat, his memory alive with the name he had once read amongst the pages of his father's journal.

"Well, I haven't heard that name in a while," the demon replied in a half growl, half snarl that set Faye visibly shuddering.

"What now?" the detective demanded, her finger twitching faintly around the trigger of her gun. Dr. Ronwe let out a wet, throaty chuckle, and swept his hand in Faye's direction. Without warning, the woman flew off her feet and struck the opposing wall, the gun tumbling from her hands and her eyes rolling into the back of her hand.

"Let her go!" Sam yelled, taking a step towards the monster without even slight hesitation. However, the creature held one finger up to Sam and shook it from side to side as though scolding him. With the gesture, Faye slid from one side of the wall to the other, her skull striking the adjacent plaster hard.

"Stop!" Sam implored, finally lowering his weapon in compliance with the thing that he faced down.

"You know, if truth be told, young man," Ronove began, "it's rather refreshing to meet someone who has actually heard of me. This wasn't an easy set up by any means, I can tell you. I had to call in quite a few personal favours to get this little operation up and running. But, what better playground for a knowledge demon than the wonderful innovation that is the internet? So much information, so many facts and figures, all just floating around in cyber space, waiting to be plucked and enjoyed; so many fresh, young, talented minds to be tapped into. Of course, you take the Honey Boo Boo's with the budding Bach's, but it's worth it. Oh, it's worth it, my boy."

"And I guess the souls you've been harvesting were just too good to pass up," Sam sneered, edging towards the desk so that he could position himself better should the monstrous entity choose to lunge.

The demon shrugged, "Some were a blistering disappointment, the frat boys for example were more of an appetiser than a main course… but for the most part, yes."

Faye's mouth dropped open as the demon turned to regard her, his eyes misting over white, and he raised his hand in her direction. Immediately the woman was hurled across the room, landing with a dull thud against a bookcase and sending a cascade of dusty texts hurling from the shelves.

Turning toward the hunter, Ronwe reached out and clasped his fingers together, as if strangling the man without even touching him. Sam grasped his throat and struggled for breath as he felt invisible fingers close around his windpipe, but as a gunshot rang out, he fell back onto the floor struggling to regulate his breathing. Faye aimed the gun once more at the demon, yet the second shot merely passed through him just like the first, only serving to stun him momentarily. Quickly coming to his senses, Sam made a grab for the walking stick the professor held in his hand. He levelled strike after strike against the apparently aged yet supernaturally strong figure, noting out of the corner of his eye that Faye had climbed to her feet and appeared to be none the worse for wear.

As Ronove dropped to his knees in pain, Sam drew the stick back like a baseball bat, and swung at the creature's head. His skull split with a sickening crack, and the demon slumped to the ground moaning. It was all the encouragement Sam needed, and he set about delivering blow after blow to the fake professor's skull. Finally, with a pool of black blood formed on the floor beneath his prone body, Ronove emitted one final rattling breath, and then fell still. Sam glanced at the stick in his hand and, with a shrug he brought it down hard over his raised knee, snapping the item completely in half.

He shot a glance at Faye, who was bent over struggling to catch her breath, although for the most part unharmed. Finally, the detective straightened herself up, shook her head, and offered the younger Winchester a grin.

With obvious affection, she drawled, "I forgot just how dull life is without a Winchester around."

**x-x-x**

The raucous laughter and heated conversation from the patrons of the bar was a familiar and oddly comforting sound to Jo Harvelle, and as she carried an armful of beers across to the corner booth she paused to greet several old timers who stopped her as she passed.

"Thanks darlin'," Bobbie smiled gratefully, instantly taking a sip of the ice cold beverage with a satisfied gulp.

"So, let me get this straight… a demon infiltrated some sociable computer thing… got kids to gank their friends like they're carving up deli meat, and 'Carrie' here tries to end it all with a bathroom mirror until you and some cop buddy of your dad's beat an ugly, old dude to death with a stick. Did I get that right?"

"Social network, Bobby," Sam answered, swallowing down a mouthful of his own beer before he arched an eyebrow, "but aside from that, pretty much, yeah."

Bobby shook his head in evident disbelief and took another healthy gulp of his beer, then another for good measure, "Yeah, I was afraid that was what you said."

"Let's not forget this jerk here smacking me in the face," Jo added with obvious irritation, hooking her thumb in Dean's direction, as the man in question shrank back against his seat. He winced as he looked at the angry bruise on Jo's cheekbone, and once again felt a sharp pang of guilt for his actions.

"Am I ever gonna be done saying 'I'm sorry' for that one?" Dean inquired, although as Jo seated herself at his side, he wrapped an arm around her waist in order to pull her closer to him.

She shot him a grin, one eyebrow arched as she replied, "Eventually."

From underneath the table, Scooby let out a low whine and propped his chin on Jo's boot. The hunter smiled, reaching quickly beneath the table to pat the dog's head.

"Besides, that mutt made me pay, as I seem to recall," Dean stated, grimacing at the memory of the puppy's rough, slimy tongue repeatedly assaulting his face. He shuddered for good measure, and frowned as Jo shot a smirk at him. However, beneath the table, Jo clasped Dean's knee with her right hand and gave it a comforting squeeze that communicated not only her affection, but also her forgiveness.

"Really, I should have realised as soon as Faye mentioned the professor's name," Sam lamented, still mentally berating himself days later for his minor failing. "He wasn't exactly being subtle about it. Ronwe is another, lesser recognised name for the demon. He craves knowledge and is a collector of souls, which explains why he got so pissy every time someone left the site or threatened his resource pool in some other way."

Jo reached for her bottle of beer, although she refrained from taking a sip and instead began to peel the label from the side.

"Hey, some of us didn't even realise knowledge demons existed, so you're still top of the class, Sam," Jo consoled him with a grin, which Sam accepted with a nod of his head and tip of his beer bottle.

"So what happens to all those souls now?" Dean wondered aloud, looking to Bobby for explanation. The old hunter only shrugged, immersed in his drink, and so Dean redirected his curious glance to his brother.

"Well, I guess the victims souls were set free when Ronove died, but the murderers? Yeah… I think we can safely say they're headed downstairs when the time comes," Sam replied, frowning as he contemplated the injustice behind the situation. The kids who had been driven to kill had effectively been damned through no fault of their own, but Sam knew that once Hell had its claws into a soul, there was very little that could be done.

Dean widened his eyes and cocked his head, "Well, that's a cheery thought right there."

Jo nodded sadly, reaching up and gently placing her palm to his cheek to usher his head down to hers. Dean pressed a gentle kiss to her lips and then drew her closer to his chest, as the four hunters sat in silence and contemplated not just the events of the last few days, but the horrific fate that now awaited the victims of Ronwe's scheme.

"You deleted your profile, right?" Sam checked as he glanced across at Dean, almost anticipating the furious nod he received in response.

"You bet your ass I did," Dean affirmed, "the internet's a dangerous place, Sammy boy. From now on I'm just gonna use it for the essentials… porn, and pie recipes."

Jo shook her head, hiding her smirk behind the neck of her beer bottle as she took a sip.

"Amen to that," Bobby agreed, clearing his throat as he added, "damned technology. Never did much see the point."

Sam merely chuckled, knocking back the final dregs of his beer and then slamming his empty bottle down on the table.

"I guess maybe someone should warn Sophia, persuade her to disable her account," Jo stated, pursing her lips in order to hide the gleeful expression struggling to overcome her features, "just to be cautious."

Sam nodded, his gaze ticking to the bar, over which Sophia leaned as she distributed a round of beers to a group of young hunters. He watched the woman's fluid movements with an awed smile spread across his lips, and Dean nudged Bobby non-discretely as he intercepted the gesture.

"Yeah… someone should really do that," Sam finally replied as he stumbled to his feet and crossed the bar without a backward glance at the table he had only seconds before occupied.

Slapping Bobby on the shoulder, Dean pointed in the direction his brother had disappeared in, and watched as he launched into animated conversation with the pretty brunette waitress.

"Bobby," Dean declared, his voice dripping half with pride and half with sarcasm, "our boy's finally grown up."

**The End of Episode Thirteen**

**(Next Episode – Who Wants To Live Forever)**


	40. Chapter 40

_**Episode 14 – Part 1**_

'_**Who Wants to Live Forever?'**_

_**x-x-x**_

_**Nebraska**_

_**March 7**__**th**__** 2012**_

To most couples, a date at the observatory would seem like the single dullest Saturday afternoon pursuit, but to Sam Winchester and Sophia Bell nothing could be more perfect. Despite the fact that Sam and Sophia had managed only a handful of coffees together outside the Roadhouse, plus the one Star Wars movie marathon during the Christmas period, Sam was optimistic enough to allow their latest outing together to be referred to as an official 'date'. He had even managed to work up the courage during the planetarium show to slide his arm around the back of Sophia's chair and allow it to drape over her shoulder. The woman had simply smiled, neither acknowledging the gesture or moving away from it, only continuing to stare in awe at the stars documented on the ceiling above their heads.

When the show had finally ended Sam had suggested a trip to the cafeteria, where he had purchased two sodas and a large slice of chocolate cake. The fact that he had brought two forks back to the table had not gone unnoticed by Sophia, who had rewarded Sam with a smile that had set his stomach flip-flopping helplessly. Once the cake had been consumed in companionable silence, Sophia had reached across the table and cleaned the frosting from the corner of Sam's lips with the pad of her thumb. It had been so long since Sam had been on an actual date however, he was near certain that the whole experience was a dream that he was doomed to soon wake from. Seemingly aware of this, on their second lap around the observatory Sophia had slipped her hand inside his, securing a swift and easy transition into their status as an official 'couple'.

"So pretty," Sophia observed, peering through a large telescope that was set up to focus through the observatory roof towards the actual stars.

Sam watched her intently and nodded, managing a smile despite the blush that rose up his cheeks. Sophia turned and glanced up at him from behind a curtain of dark hair. She stood somewhat awkwardly at Sam's side and jammed her hands in her pockets. She scuffed the toe of her sneaker across the ground before she cleared her throat and finally found the courage to glance back up at him.

"So, not that I haven't had a really good time today because I have but… do you maybe wanna get out of here?" she suggested, her smile shy as she gazed at Sam in an attempt to gauge his reaction.

Unfortunately for Sam, the expression he first adopted was confusion and Sophia immediately blanched, her lips drawing together in a tight line that barely resembled a smile.

"Okay, no biggie, I… I just…" she stammered, rubbing her forehead as she mentally berated herself for trying to make the first move. From Sam's floundering and gaping mouth, she assumed he was not exactly receptive to the idea of taking their relationship to the next level. She felt stupid and completely embarrassed, and was just about to turn on her heel when Sam clutched at her hand.

"No, I mean… yes," he exclaimed, wondering just how he could be Dean's brother when he lacked even a tenth of the charm offensive that the older Winchester so effortlessly exuded to the opposite sex.

"Really?" Sophia demanded brightly, clearing her throat before dampening down her enthusiasm and adding, "I mean, are you sure?"

Sam floundered, pushing his bangs out of his eyes with his free hand as he replied, "Yeah, I mean, I'm sure… as long as you're sure?"

"Totally sure," Sophia answered instantly, her smile returning and bringing with it the dimples that Sam had admired from afar for weeks before working up the courage to do something about it.

"Then I'm sure I'm sure," spluttered Sam, somewhat breathless with anticipation as he tightened his fingers around Sophia's, and the two began eyeing the exit with obvious intent.

"Shall we…?" Sophia suggested, her head inclined to the doorway.

"Let's…" replied Sam, already half way out of his seat and almost dragging the woman in his wake as he pushed through the throngs of people that had suddenly appeared in the observatory. Sophia bounced along at his side, and in record time the couple had made their way back to the parking lot and were sitting in the classic Pontiac Firebird that Sam had loaned from Bobby's lot.

As Sam drove back to the roadhouse, the tense silence weighing down on him but with excitement burning in the pit of his stomach, Sophia fiddled with the dial on the radio if only to give her hands something to do. Her cheeks coloured as Barry White's _"Let's Get It On"_ filled the space and she hurriedly twiddled the knob again only to be greeted by the chorus of _"I wanna sex you up"._

Sophie turned the radio off completely with a flick of her wrist and then she hazarded a coy glance to the side at Sam, who was frozen staring at the traffic straight ahead with the muscles in his jaw tensed. With a small but sly grin, Sophie relaxed back in the passenger seat and reached across to Sam, first to rest her open palm on his knee before sliding it slowly and deliberately back up to the top of his thigh. Sam cleared his throat and the steering wheel jerked a little in his grip, but Sophia only flexed her fingers to squeeze his leg. In response, Sam pushed his foot down harder on the accelerator.

When they reached the roadhouse, Sam drove the car round back to the garage and parked up outside the double doors. He practically threw off his seatbelt, impressed to find that Sophie was already outside the passenger door and waiting for him.

The couple grabbed for each other's hands and scurried to the front door with keen smiles on their faces, Sophia leading just a little and gently tugging at Sam's hand to get him to follow faster. However, as they came to a halt outside the door rather abruptly, Sam dragged Sophia into his chest and attacked her lips with his own. She let out a moan of pleasure and reciprocated the eager kiss, her hands tangling in Sam's hair. They stumbled through the doorway into the roadhouse still locked in their clinch, Sophia using her back to push the door open, both thoroughly lost in their make-out session.

It was perhaps only seconds after they stumbled into the bar that the jolting floorboards beneath their feet and the sounds of wood breaking and glass smashing caught their attention. Breaking apart suddenly, Sam gasped for breath as he took in the scene of chaos around them with equal measures of disbelief and annoyance. Glancing furtively around the bar, he spied Dean holding a burly guy's arm behind his back as he shoved him toward the door and yelled a tirade of expletives that left the tips of Sam's ears red. Whilst several of their regular patrons seemed to be busying themselves with picking up broken glass and righting upturned tables and chairs, a few he didn't recognise were currently embroiled in a fight, the sickening noise of fists hitting flesh serving as the soundtrack to the spectacle.

"What the hell..." Sophia drawled, stumbling a little as a drunken brawler chose that very second to come hurtling toward the door, and Sam was forced to push her out of the way.

Returning to the fray, Dean tapped a seemingly rabid reveller on the shoulder moments before the man aimed a punch in his direction.

Dean avoided the gigantic fist but a second, unexpected blow from the man's left side caught the hunter off-guard, leaving Dean with a trickle of blood ebbing from the corner of his lip. Clearly enraged, the older Winchester landed one furious punch across the man's jaw, crumpling him to the ground in a heap of defeat.

"Hey Sammy, you want to help a guy out here?" Dean called across the bar, suddenly spotting his younger sibling taking in the sight with wide-eyes.

"I gotta…" Sam blurted out to Sophia, jerking his thumb in the direction of the fight in explanation. Sophie nodded and moved around the outside edge of the room to begin helping to right the furniture.

Sam arrived just in time to pull the man, who seemed to have received a second wind, off his brother. Dean grunted his thanks before clocking the biker-type square on the jaw. His smirk said it all as the man fell into unconsciousness, slumping over in Sam's arms.

"Take out the trash, Sammy," stated Dean, clapping his brother on the shoulder before he turned to begin wading into a minor fist fight that had splintered off from the initial all out brawl.

"Alright," Jo snarled, appearing suddenly from behind the bar with a shot gun balanced carefully against her shoulder. She addressed the entire room it seemed, patrons and revellers alike, and the look in her eyes was as wild as the curls that cascaded down her back.

"You got ten seconds exactly to get the hell out of my bar before I start shooting," she declared, her voice not wavering even slightly. "One… two… three…"

Jo arched an eyebrow and waited, glad to see most of the brawlers begin to somewhat sheepishly abandon the fight and back away from the gun toting bar owner with their hands raised in surrender.

"Awww now, come on little lady," one older guy drawled, grinning in an unapologetically sleazy manner, "you ain't got the balls to pull the trigger… so stop your hollerin' and…"

Seconds later, he leapt into the air as the floorboard beside his foot splintered due to the sudden penetration of a bullet. Jo shifted the gun back against her shoulder and glanced up from the barrel of the weapon.

"Ten," she snarled.

Dean sniggered, watching as all of the remaining men fled the scene, not a single murmur of dissent now to be heard.

"Ya'll come back now, ya hear?" he yelled, chuckling to himself and then wincing as he pressed his fingertips to his forehead and found a smear of blood on his hand.

Rushing to the doors, Jo and Sophia slammed them closed, hastily pulling across the dead bolts before the two women sank back against them and surveyed the damage done to the roadhouse.

"Awesome," Jo sighed, hefting the shotgun up onto the bar before she turned to Dean and gestured to the nearest bar stool.

"Alright Winchester, get over here and sit your ass down so I can take a look at that stubborn head of yours."

The look she shot him left Dean little room for argument, and he sat himself down dutifully and grimaced in preparation for Jo's heavy handed nursing care.

"Be gentle, Harvelle."

"Aren't I always?" she inquired with a smile, reaching behind the bar for the first aid kit, a somewhat distracted expression on her face.

"Hey, where did Sam go?" she wondered aloud, widening her eyes as her gaze eventually settled on the younger Winchester brother, who was sitting with an ice-pack over one eye, held in place by a mildly concerned looking Sophia.

Sam heaved a heavy sigh, his expression crestfallen as he squinted up at Sophia through his one good eye, realising that their evening had more than likely come to an end.

"Rain check?" Sophia asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from Sam's forehead and smiling down at him in understanding. Sam began to nod but when the gesture sent pain ricocheting through his eye socket, he let out a strangled groan instead.

"Rain check," he repeated.

"So… did you two kids have fun?" Dean chose that precise moment to ask with a snicker. The amusement soon fell from his face however as Jo pressed a piece of iodine soaked cotton wool over his latest wound.

"Don't tease your brother," she chided, biting her bottom lip to thwart the smile that threatened to betray her actual amusement.

"I had a great time," Sophia piped up enthusiastically, shooting a glance at Sam as she added, "maybe tomorrow we could grab dinner together? Pick up where we left off tonight…"

"Uh, tomorrows not gonna be good for Sam," Dean interjected, earning a punch in the shoulder off Jo and a sudden death stare from Sam himself.

"We have a… uh… a thing… out of town that…" Jo stammered, looking from Sophia to Sam and back again as she attempted to formulate a plausible excuse.

Sophia only chuckled quietly, squeezing Sam's shoulder as she spoke, "Guys, it's okay. I worked out what goes on around here a long time ago."

"I really don't think you did," Dean muttered under his breath, only to receive another, sharper slug to the bicep from his irritated girlfriend.

"I know more about monsters than you think, Dean," Sophia said gravely, suddenly sobering as she cast a long, hard look across the bar at her employers. Dean and Jo could only stare back at the waitress, their mouths open in simultaneous astonishment.

Sophia quickly turned back to Sam and her sweet smile was in place once again as she added, "I'll see you when you get back, I guess. Be safe, okay?"

Directing a buoyant wave at the thoroughly stunned hunters, Sophia strolled off toward the back of the bar, and headed up to bed. Dean glanced up at the ceiling and listened to her footfalls cross the floor until he heard a door open and then close.

Blowing air into his cheeks, Dean stared down at the toes of his boots for a moment before he merely observed, "Huh."

"Uh… So…" Sam stammered, still a little confused by the turn of events that evening; he had no idea where to start with trying to comprehend Sophia's cryptic statement. Given the dull throb in his eye socket and temple, he figured now was probably not the time to begin dissecting it at any length.

"I guess we're heading out bright and early tomorrow, huh?" he asked instead as he removed the ice pack then grimaced before replacing it again.

"Yep, I promised Bobby's buddy we'd be there asap, so we need to be out of here at the ass crack of dawn," Dean grinned, excited at the prospect of a hunt after spending the last couple of months in something of a supernatural drought.

"You got a real way with words, you know that?!" Jo chuckled, affixing a piece of gauze dressing in place above Dean's eyebrow before she snapped the first aid kit closed and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

Dean slid his hands around her waist and held her tightly, guiding her to stand between his knees.

"I'm a cunning linguist," he said as he waggled his eyebrows, earning a pointed eye roll from his girlfriend.

Jo turned away as the sound of manic barking drew her attention to the residential area at the back of the bar. Her features illuminated immediately as she scurried off to open the baby safety gate that they used to keep Scooby out of the bar during opening hours. When she reached the gate, the puppy was standing with his chin resting on the top, his tail thumping the wall furiously. The dog seemed to have tripled in size in the time since they had taken him in, but his intellect still seemed remarkably on the low side.

"I don't know why you bother with that damn, stupid gate anymore," Dean hollered into the back as the sounds of Jo unclasping the gate and swinging it open became drowned out by Scooby's excited yowls and the noise his talons made on the wooden floor.

"Dumb mutt is big enough to hop right over it now," continued Dean, muttering to himself as he began to clear up the medical kit and the supplies strewn across the bar.

"Yeah, but I don't think he's realised it yet," Sam stated in the absence of a response from Jo, who could be heard talking in a hushed baby voice to the puppy.

"So, you and Sophia?" Dean suddenly declared, swiftly changing the subject onto one that Sam was decidedly less comfortable with. "That a 'thing' now?"

Sam cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, squirmed a little and tossed his hair; fidgeting so much that Dean speculated he might spontaneously combust soon if he continued.

"Well, we… I mean, I…" Sam stuttered, toying with the ice pack and grimacing as droplets of freezing cold water began to drip through his fingers. "Would that be bad… I mean… necessarily?"

"No I mean… No. She's great I just…" he paused, uncertain as to how to continue. Memories of Sophia's words only months before had stayed with him; he recalled when she had told him with total certainty of the life that lay ahead for he and Jo, even down to the eye colour of their future daughter. There was something decidedly 'off' about Sophia to Dean's mind.

"You just…?" Sam coaxed, confused by his brother's apparent indifference to Sophia when he had assumed that Dean approved of and even liked her.

Dean licked his lips, "What if she has like… powers? Not like, 'X Men' stuff but… you know, _other _powers?"

Sam shook his head as if he didn't understand his brother's inference, "Powers? Dean, how hard did you bang your head?"

Dean sighed, jamming his hands in his pockets as he wondered just how to explain his suspicions to Sam without divulging the details Sophia had shared with him.

"I just think that…" he began, halting abruptly as he felt Jo's arms loop around his waist and she pressed up against him, her chin resting on his shoulder. Thinking better of it, especially given his new audience member, Dean shrugged, "I like her… I think she's great. I'm happy for you, dude, really."

"Okay, well, good," Sam replied, although his tone was somewhat colder now as he regarded his brother carefully. Dean gave nothing away, leaning back against Jo and enjoying the feel of her arms encircling him instead.

"We should all get some sleep, we got a long day ahead of us tomorrow," Jo cajoled, tugging on Dean's arm as she attempted to lead him towards the stairs. Scooby danced around the couples' feet, seeming more ready for play time than bed time, but Jo whistled for him to follow them nonetheless, and the mutt went trotting obediently after his mistress as if nothing pleased him more.

"G'night, Sammy," Dean called out over his shoulder but Sam was already gone, the melting ice pack abandoned on the bar stool he had occupied just seconds before. Dean swallowed hard and only hoped that his suspicions about Sophia would be proven wrong in due time.

**x-x-x**

Jo yawned into the rim of her coffee cup and her head drooped a little, unbidden. Beside her, Sam stared down at the case folder open on the table in front of him, although in reality he was still too exhausted to really begin digesting a single word he read. Dean, however, was seated across from the two sleepy hunters, a plate piled high with sausages, bacon, eggs, and syrupy pancakes, and an overly enthusiastic smile spread across his face. Neither Jo nor Sam were responding well to his consistent chatter, but Dean still maintained the steady stream of conversation between mouthfuls.

"So I figure we'll breeze into town, chat up the yokels, prove Bobby's crazy pal wrong, and then head on home to rub it in the old man's face," Dean declared, patting his stomach happily with both hands before he reached for the topmost slice of bacon on the pile.

"Wait, what?" Jo pressed, rubbing at one bleary eye with a balled up fist, "prove them wrong? I thought this was an actual, honest-to-God case?"

Sam frowned and reached for the sugar shaker, heaping a generous amount into his cup of black coffee despite the arched brow Jo directed at him. It wasn't like Sam to enjoy anything to excess but he hardly seemed to even register what his own hands were doing as he continued to stare down at the papers in front of him.

"From what I see here, I think Dean might be right," Sam finally muttered, and Jo was surprised to note that his tone seemed somewhat grudging. He avoided looking at his brother deliberately, despite the fact that Dean nudged his plate forwards in a silent offering to share his breakfast. Shrugging, Jo grabbed a piece of crispy bacon and bit into it hard, sitting back and deciding to observe the brothers for a little while. It was rare to see them anything other than positively co-dependent and Jo was suddenly adamant to work out the cause of this new and evident hostility between them.

Jo glanced between the siblings as she chewed and swallowed the last mouthful of bacon; each seemed annoyingly determined to avoid the other's gaze.

"Alright, so why isn't this a case? What gives?" Jo probed, bobbing her head to catch Dean's eyes and prompt a response.

Dean yawned, pausing to exchange a knowing grin and a wink with his similarly yawning girlfriend before he continued on.

"The Fountain of Youth?" he guffawed, shovelling a mouthful of eggs past his lips before he chewed, swallowed, and shook his head ruefully. "Some old… _old_… friend of Bobby's says a few rich, geriatric broads he knows are still looking perky in their twilight years, and all of a sudden it's the freaking 'fountain of youth'?!"

Jo's amused smile widened as Dean sliced through a pancake and speared it with his fork, "There ain't no supernatural mystery about it sweetheart. It's botox! A little nip here, a little tuck there. No magic involved, just some good old-fashioned plastic surgery, a bunch of bored housewives, and their alimony checks."

He steered the fork towards her and offered up the breakfast food. Jo opened her mouth and happily accepted the syrup drowned pancake, catching the non-too-subtle sigh that Sam released in that moment.

Quickly swallowing down the food, Jo stood from the table and folded her arms across her chest, "Okay, so I'm going to head to the ladies and whilst I'm gone, you two girls can talk about whatever it is that's got your panties in a bunch this morning."

Sam let out an audible huff and Dean only rolled his eyes, but neither one of them appeared brave or foolish enough to argue. Bobbing her head in satisfaction, Jo disappeared, walking slowly on purpose to allow the boys more time together to discuss whatever their issues were in private. As much as she knew that Dean loved her, he was still an intensely private person and Jo doubted that the brothers would ever clear the air if not presented with the opportunity to be alone.

As soon as Jo had gone, Sam rounded on Dean and the older Winchester choked down a piece of sausage he had been eating in obvious surprise.

"Why don't you like Sophia? What did she ever do to you?" demanded Sam, adding scornfully, "your own crackpot theories aside. Can't you just be happy that I'm happy for once? After everything… don't I deserve this?"

"No… Yes… I mean, you deserve happiness, Sammy," conceded Dean, pushing his plate aside as he regarded his younger brother, "I just want you to be careful. We don't know all that much about Sophia and with our line of work, you can never be too cautious."

"So you don't trust my instincts, is that it?" Sam almost snarled, managing to reign in his fury at the last second. A handful of customers glanced their way but a crowd was far from forming. However, Sam made more of an effort to even out his tone, and leaned closer across the table towards Dean to deliver his point.

"No, your instincts are great, I just don't think any of us have known her long enough to even have instincts about her yet," argued Dean, struggling in the face of Sam's open anger to keep his own temper under lock and key.

"Why can't you leave this alone?" Sam hissed, taking a long swig of his coffee before slamming the mug back down on the formica table, "when you asked me… no, wait… _demanded_ that I stop researching family curses and mysterious fires, I did, Dean. Out of respect for you! Despite what my better judgement was telling me, despite everything I know as a hunter, I let it go because that's what you wanted for you and Jo, and after everything you've already been through you guys should be happy. So why can't I be?"

Dean twirled his fork between his fingers and sighed, "No. You're right, it's just…"

"Just what, Dean?" Sam all but implored. He stared at his brother, feeling at once unnerved by the flicker of unease that he saw in Dean's eyes.

Clearing his throat, Dean cast a glance up the hallway Jo had disappeared down before he spoke, "You remember when we had that kid staying with us a couple of months back?"

Sam frowned, wondering just where Dean was going with his explanation, "Sadie? Uh… yeah."

Bobbing his head, Dean pushed the slices of sausage around his plate with his fork, momentarily lost in thought.

"Sophia told me stuff… about me and Jo… like… psychic stuff. At least I think that's what she is… I don't know, man."

Instantly Sam's stomach began to roll, not just at the idea that Sophia was hiding some sort of supernatural ability from him, but at the information she had imparted about Jo. Given Sam's nightmares about his brother's girlfriend, and how concerned he was for his brother's happiness, his mouth began to feel increasingly dry.

"Like… bad stuff?!"

The smile that quickly tugged at Dean's lips calmed Sam's nerves, and the oldest Winchester shook his head with something that loosely resembled contentment blossoming on his features.

"No," Dean shrugged noncommittally, although his smile gave him away, "she uh… she told me we'd have a kid someday. Even told me what it… _she_… was gonna look like. I'm telling you Sammy, it was pretty freaky. It was like she was looking at me but she was looking right through me."

Sam remained quiet for a moment, staring hard at the table as if the answers to the conundrum lay in the yellow chequered pattern printed on the surface.

"So she's a little… out there…" Sam finally declared, forcing himself to shrug his shoulders as if the new information he had received meant nothing. "I kinda like that about her. We don't actually know anything. She's made a few guesses about the future. Plenty of people do without it meaning they're hiding some dark or ugly secret. You saw Jo with Sadie. She was great with her. It'd be perfectly normal to assume she might wanna have a kid one day."

Dean only nodded, although the set of his jaw and his furrowed brow said more than any response could.

Sam continued, undeterred, "Honestly, Dean? I expected it to be much bigger than that."

"I know, I just…" Dean began, stopping as Sam raised a single hand in warning.

"I'll be careful, I'll take things slow, and I'll run a background check on her if it'll shut you up," Sam replied, finishing the last of his coffee before he added, "just please don't let this be the thing that comes between us because… well, for the first time in a while, I get that feeling like… maybe I could be happy again."

Swallowing audibly, Dean allowed his frown to slacken and bowed his head a little.

"I won't stand in your way, man," he promised, his voice softening. "Now… we cool?"

Sam rolled his eyes, finally consenting to smile.

"Yeah, we're cool," his smile grew as he added, "and I'm just throwing this out there, but Samantha's a great name."

Dean chuckled, balling up his napkin and tossing it at his brother, "Well I'll be sure to keep that in mind, Uncle Sammy."

Sam cleared his throat, glancing up as the brothers noted Jo returning from the restroom, "I guess that'd be pretty cool, being an uncle one day."

Dean picked up his coffee mug and took a long, slow sip of the now lukewarm liquid as he nodded his head in agreement. A silent smile of understanding passed between the brothers, and by the time Jo slid into the booth next to Dean, they were engaged in a wholly non-incriminating discussion about the pies sitting on the counter across the diner.

Jo smiled as Dean looped his arm around her waist and drew her closer, and she peered up at the two men with evident relief.

"I see harmony's been restored to Winchester land…" she nodded in approval, "so, since we've got at least nineteen hours more drive time ahead of us, I say we haul ass out of here."

Dean pressed a kiss against her forehead as he dug into his pocket for his wallet and tossed the required amount of cash down onto the table, "Now who's got a way with words?!"

The rest of the journey passed in a mixture of companionable silence, occasional rest stops, and the exchange of the usual off-colour quips. By the time they arrived in California, it was obvious that Sam had begun to relax in Dean's presence again. However, try as he may, Dean could not help the niggling doubt about Sophia that still plagued him. He had made a promise though, and that was something Dean Winchester never broke, so long as he could help it.

**x-x-x**

When the Impala pulled up outside the nursing home, it was immediately evident to the hunters that Bobby's friend had been waiting for them for quite some time. From a rickety looking wheelchair, a blue tartan blanket spread over his knees, Wade Derick squinted at the road ahead, a frown of displeasure turning his grizzled lips downwards.

Dean pulled the Impala up just short of the nursing home steps and killed the engine, peering at the hunched figure of the old man with open scepticism.

"This is our source?" scoffed Dean, "this is where Bobby got his information for the case that 'just couldn't wait'?"

"I'm a little underwhelmed," Jo conceded, shaking her head as she stared at the man, who appeared to be arguing with himself now.

Heaving similarly bored sighs, the three hunters exited the car and ambled up the steps toward the porch where their geriatric friend awaited.

"You the Winchesters?" he snarled, eyeing the three hunters with apparent irritation as Dean and Sam extended their hands by way of greeting, and Jo attempted what passed for a pleasant smile.

"Yes sir," Dean nodded, gesturing to Jo as he added, "and this is Jo Harvelle…"

Wade squinted through milky blue eyes and looked her up and down with open curiousity.

"Harvelle… Harvelle…" he repeated thoughtfully, "you Bill Harvelle's girl?"

Jo nodded but before she could reply the old man added, "I knew your daddy long way back… he was a good man. Course I knew your papa too." He turned his gaze to Sam and Dean, "Shame about what happened to them. Yes sir, that was a real shame."

He glanced off into the distance as he added with a wry smile, "I guess it's true what they say; only the good die young. That's why I'm closing in on eighty five next month. Devil don't hurry what he's sure of."

He laughed and clasped a hand to his chest as he began to hack and rasp.

Dean smirked, deciding that perhaps he could get to like the crotchety old Southern boy after all. Wade seemed to have a propensity for telling things the way they were, and Dean had come to respect that in a man over recent years. There was something to be said in favour of the cold, hard truth, no matter how difficult it may sometimes be to swallow.

"Sir…" he began, growing silent as Wade continued to wheeze a little but waved off the formal term with a scowl and one flapping hand.

"None of that 'sir', crap," he insisted, wheeling himself towards the other side of the porch and narrowly avoiding running over Sam's toes. The man pulled the chair up alongside a white washed porch swing and, taking the hint, Sam, Dean and Jo parked themselves on the bench.

"Wade…" Dean attempted again, although trailed off once more as the man glared at him through narrowed eyes.

"Now boy, did I say you could get that personal?" he growled.

"Sorry, Mr. Derick," Dean hurriedly corrected himself, his expression amused as the retired hunter suddenly dissolved into barking laughter that shook his entire upper body and caused his chair to rock from side to side.

"Boy, I'm just messin' with ya," he said, eyes twinkling, "gotta get my kicks where I can at my age. God knows booze, sex and hard drugs are off the table, now."

Jo blinked in surprise as she stared at the man, who she could not quite decide whether she liked or not in the short time since she had met him.

"Wade, can you tell use exactly why we're here?" she inquired, doing her best to maintain a respectful tone that was not also too formal. She need not have worried, as the old man turned to regard her with a smile set on his face.

Wade drew back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap as a look of sudden contemplation settled on his features. Drawing in a slow breath, he turned to regard Jo with an unnervingly steady gaze, "What's your greatest fear, darlin'? As a woman, I mean. What is it that keeps you awake at night?"

Jo appeared slightly startled by having the line of questioning turned on her and she scowled, shaking her head, "I... I don't know. Losing someone I love, I guess."

Wade shook his head, "Nah, that's not female thinkin', you're answering like a hunter."

"Because I am," Jo shot back, earning a brief smile from the old man who nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Alright, fair enough. But I'm betting my ass that if I asked another pretty young thing your age what her biggest fear was, she'd say she was plain terrified of growing old," Wade speculated with a definite nod, as if he'd just imparted a great wealth of knowledge upon them.

Jo arched an eyebrow in his direction and folded her arms across her chest, "I gotta say Wade, I'm more worried about _not_ growing old. But let's cut the crap, shall we, and talk about why we just drove for 26 hours straight."

Her grin was dangerous, and Dean cleared his throat and flashed Wade his own most encouraging smile in a bid to hasten the old man's story.

"Alright, alright. I'm gettin' to it. So... before I wound up in this God-forsaken place, I lived in a condo over on route 59. I'd make ends meet by doing odd jobs... mowing lawns, fixing up cars, pool cleaning... that kind of thing. I got a call one day from this rich broad who lived way across town in one of those fancy-schmansy mansion houses over on Third and Carter. I did a few jobs for her, put up some shelving, took care of a little wood rot, and then a couple of her rich lady buddies asked me to do some things for them. I guess they were all divorced and kind of lonely. Tell the truth, I felt sorry for them. Always worrying about their weight and grey hair, but oh man... listening to them bitch and moan was a real downer, I can tell you."

"And..." Sam prompted, wincing as Wade grimaced at him.

"I'm getting to it now if you'll stop flapping your lips, boy."

Sam mimed a zipping motion over his lips, although the expression blooming on his face bordered on murderous rather than compliant. Wade was starting to get to him, Dean could tell, not that he could blame his brother. Many hunters seemed to grow obnoxious with old age but Wade seemed to have mastered the quality like no other they had met before. Dean half wondered if Bobby hadn't sent them on the supposed hunt for some twisted kicks.

"That all happened going on thirty years ago now," Wade stated, throwing back his head so that he could meet Dean's gaze properly. "After about ten years of loyal service, they just stopped calling on me out the blue. Truth be told, I thought they were just kicking the bucket one by one. Didn't pay much mind to it, really. Until the other day…"

He paused in an obviously dramatic fashion and Jo did not bother to mask her responding eye roll.

"What happened the other day?" Dean asked, obliging Wade with the question he had so obviously been waiting for. "Don't leave us hanging, dude. Story's just starting to get good."

Wade nodded, smacking his almost toothless gums together as he toyed with the blanket over his legs. He was deliberately drawing out the answer, Jo could see, and she wondered if the old guy was perhaps using his bravado and sour nature to hide his loneliness. Bobby had mentioned that he had no family to speak of, and growing up in the roadhouse Jo had seen first-hand what that could do to a guy in his twilight years. Bitterness was often a symptom of regret and isolation, and Jo wondered not for the first time if this fate would have befallen her mother should Jo have pursued hunting on her own as she had always planned to before the Winchesters had come along.

"Well, it was chair aerobics… damn stupid pastime if you ask me. My ass is glued to this thing every second of every day, unless I'm on the crapper. I don't want to look like no damned fool, waving my arms above my head and doing jazz hands," grumbled Wade, his voice cracking a little before he succumbed to another fit of coughing. The hunters waited patiently for the choking to subside before Dean offered the man a gentle but probing smile.

Intercepting three almost identical expressions of impatience, Wade rolled his eyes.

"You know you three youngsters need to realise that patience is a God damn virtue! If you'll all quit eyeballin' me, I'll get to it."

Quickly peering around at the hunters to scrutinise their expressions, and finding himself content that they had all managed to shift their features to something that less resembled annoyance, Wade continued on as promised.

"So there I am, held hostage in the dining hall, waiting for this lycra wearin' harpie to start hollering at us, when in walks Nancy York, looking just about as young and beautiful as this little thing sitting right here."

Jo sighed aloud and leant back in her seat as she folded her arms across her chest. Dean flashed her an apologetic smile, which she deflected with an agonisingly pointed glare.

"Nancy... was one of the..." Sam began, starting as Wade leapt on his interruption with a face like thunder.

"One of the hoity-toity old broads I was telling you about, yeah," Wade finished the other man's sentence, pressing a balled fist to his mouth as a coughing fit once again overwhelmed him.

"And you're sure it was her? Not her daughter? A Grand-daughter?" Dean inquired, raising both eyebrows as he found the older hunter's steely gaze trained on him.

"Boy, I might be an old timer but I ain't senile. I'm telling you it was her! She caught one look at me and high-tailed it out of there."

"So she looked the same as when you'd known her?" Jo pressed, her lips pinched in disbelief, "maybe she just aged well?"

Wade shook his head so vehemently that he almost shook his thick glasses free from his face. He pushed them up onto the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and scowled at Jo.

"You're not gettin' me, kid," he replied, "she looked younger than when I'd known her."

"Plastic surgery?" Dean suggested, scratching the back of his neck and frowning at the decking as he attempted to avoid Wade's glare.

"Not a chance, Winchester. Did you even listen to the first part of my story?" Wade barked, his eyes narrowing as he did the Math, "Nancy ought to be pushing ninety at least by now."

Sam, Dean and Jo fell silent, and Wade shifted in his chair with a triumphant smile, sunlight shining off his bald head.

"Not so certain now, heh?" challenged Wade, producing a dirty looking handkerchief from his trouser pocket and dabbing at his lips with it. He dropped it in a crumpled heap into his lap as soon as he was done, and affixed Sam with a powerful stare, "Now the question is, what are you children gonna do about it?"

* * *

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	41. Chapter 41

_**Episode 14 – Part 2**_

'_**Who Wants to Live Forever?'**_

_**x-x-x**_

_**Pasadena, California**_

Straightening his tie for perhaps the fifth time in as many minutes, Dean jammed a finger down the collar of his shirt and huffed out a deep sigh.

"Would you quit fidgeting?!" Sam hissed, turning around to take in the full grandeur of the York residence as the two hunters stood poised to ring the bell on the main steps of the impressive ranch style house.

"Dude, this is one house?" Dean asked in a whisper, taking in his surroundings with equal measures of awe and disgust.

Sam cocked an eyebrow as he watched a team of gardeners struggling against the Californian sunshine as they went about their business, mowing lawns, and pruning ornate shrubberies.

"This place must cost a fortune to maintain," he speculated.

"Yeah, rich people problems, Sammy," Dean replied wryly, reaching out to push the shiny bell. A loud, melodious sound filled the hallway and yet almost a minute later, the visitors remained unattended to.

"Must be Albert's day off, huh?" Dean joked, grimacing as they strode away from the front steps and he gestured to the back of the house, "let's try the tradesman's entrance, shall we?"

"Dean!" Sam hissed through gritted teeth, frowning as he trailed in his brother's wake, ducking his head behind bushes to prevent from being seen by the staff milling the grounds. He need not have bothered however as it seemed that everyone else was oblivious to their presence.

Dean paused in front of a wooden red door with a rectangle of frosted glass set in the centre, which appeared to be the back entrance to the house. He slipped the file out of his back trouser pocket and was poised to slide it into the lock when the door suddenly swung open without warning. Immediately adopting a suave smile, Dean swung his hand behind his back and dropped the file back into his pocket. He straightened up and peered into a pair of intense blue eyes, which gazed back at him in obvious questioning. Dean quickly gave the older woman the once over, noting the perfectly teased golden blonde hair, expensive looking slip dress, and the pair of diamond studs that glittered in her ears. He decided that he had indeed come face to face with Nancy York, and he extended his right hand swiftly by way of greeting.

"Good afternoon, ma'am, it's a beautiful day, wouldn't you say?" Dean inquired, releasing the woman's hand after a firm shake and resisting the urge to straighten his tie once again. "My name is Matthew, and this is my friend Sean. How are you today?"

The woman's smile was instantly flattered if not a little amused, and she folded her arms across her chest as she peered up at Dean through narrowed eyes.

"Young man, can I help you with anything specific?" she asked, her tone polite but clipped, "I am a very busy woman. If you are selling something, I can call the housekeeper to discuss it with you."

Dean paused, glancing toward Sam as he and his sibling both tried to construct a suitable rouse. Sam faltered, until Dean suddenly clasped his hands together and shot the woman his most charming smile.

"Ma'am, have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal saviour?" Dean cocked an eyebrow, ignoring the briefly confused expression that settled on Sam's features, before he shook it off and also offered up his most pious smile of encouragement.

"Now boys," Nancy began, glancing at each of the men in turn, "don't you waste my time, and I won't waste yours. How does that sound?"

Planting her hand on her hip, Nancy lifted the martini glass in her hand to her lips and took a small sip of the beverage as she awaited their response. Lifting the cocktail stick from the glass, she licked her lips, before plucking the olive from it and chewing it with gusto.

Sam nodded, about to speak when Dean suddenly interrupted, "I couldn't help but notice that you have some beautiful rose bushes outside there… and Sean here is a keen gardener…"

"Oh, the keenest," Sam agreed, trying to keep the annoyance at his brother from seeping into his tone.

Nancy smiled, and for a moment a look of wistful contemplation settled on her features which she washed down with another sip of martini. "Thank you. My husband, Walter, loved this garden. He planted those rose bushes when we first bought this house, and they have bloomed every year since."

"Uh... and how many years ago exactly is that?" Dean asked, clearing his throat as Sam nudged him discretely in the shoulder.

Nancy chuckled and shook her head, setting her now empty glass down on the wall at her side and winking at Dean.

"Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" she stated, her features set rigidly with her smile. "Is there anything else I can do for you gentlemen, or was it just my soul you were after?"

Sam let out a soft chuckle, more out of politeness than actual amusement, and shook his head.

"Well, in that case, I should be on my way to Bridge club," Nancy declared, her smile growing more genuine at the prospect, "so you two have a wonderful day, now."

"Thank you, Ma'am, you too," Dean answered, calling out after the woman as she sashayed towards her waiting car, behind the wheel of which sat a young man clad in a black suit complete with a peaked cap, "and if you change your mind, the Lord will be waiting!"

"I thought we agreed on IRS agents?" Sam snarled, hiding his annoyance behind a tight smile as they both waved at Nancy even as her car pulled away from the drive and disappeared into the distance.

"I didn't think she looked real receptive to talking about her taxes, okay?" Dean replied, pulling his tie away from his neck with relish before he stuffed it into the pocket of his dress pants and opened the top buttons of his shirt.

"So, shall we?" Dean suggested, gesturing to the open door, which a torrent of maids and gardeners seemed to be pouring in and out of with little regard for the Winchesters.

Casting a cautious glance at the staff surrounding them, Sam followed his brother inside, unsure of exactly what they may be looking for.

"Dean, we can't just barge in here," Sam stated in a low and somewhat nervous voice as he grasped Dean's elbow and attempted to pull his brother back. Dean shook off the hand Sam had fastened to him and shot his brother a disdainful look.

"That's just what we do, Sammy," he retorted, "don't go soft on me now."

"What exactly are we looking for, Dean?" demanded Sam, following his brother regardless as he jogged up the stairs two at a time. They passed a young woman wearing a blue maid's uniform in the middle of the staircase but she did not attempt to challenge them, instead shot them a small smile over the pile of freshly laundered towels she carried.

"Photographs of old Nancy from way back when… suspicious looking anti-ageing artefacts… I don't know, I'm kind of going out on a limb here," Dean answered, drawing to a halt at the top of the winding staircase and glancing from the left corridor to the right corridor as he attempted to decide which way they should now go.

"Man, I hope Jo's having more luck than we are," Sam groused, shaking his head as he brushed by Dean and turned down the left corridor.

"Left, good call, man. I was gonna say 'left' too," said Dean as he trotted after his younger brother, who had begun peering around doorways in an effort to determine which rooms may be of interest and require further investigation.

Half an hour later, they left empty-handed.

**x-x-x**

Lifting the bottle of beer to her lips, Jo picked up a French fry from the basket in front of her, and nibbled distractedly on the end as she gazed around the bar.

Having spent the last twenty minutes denying the advances of the painfully sleazy bartender, Jo was getting fed up waiting for the brothers to meet her, and had already taken solace in a beer, a burger, and a healthy helping of fries.

The door to the bar swung open, and a handful of the locals looked up to stare at the two men who strolled in. Smiling in relief, Jo rolled her eyes as Dean slid into the booth beside her and shoved her playfully across the seat as he settled in.

"You come here often, sweetheart?"Dean waggled his eyebrows, stealing a fry before he leant in and pressed a kiss against Jo's lips, which she returned with a palm pressed to his cheek.

"Thankfully not," Jo retorted, shooting him a lopsided grin as she gestured over toward the counter where the local lothario was distractedly cleaning the bar and shooting Dean an unimpressed glare.

"You make a new friend?" Dean enquired, pointedly returning the man's glare as he slid his arm around Jo in a blatantly territorial gesture.

Ignoring the escalating levels of testosterone, Jo patted his knee, "So, you boys find anything?"

Sam sighed, his lips forming a tight line as he shook his head, "Nothing."

"Zilch, nadda," Dean agreed, taking a sip of Jo's beer and wincing at the less than favourable taste. Clearing his throat, Dean returned the bottle to the table as Sam shook his head politely at Jo's offer of a French fry.

"Please yourself," Dean shrugged, helping himself to a handful of the fries and leaning his head back as he stuffed them all into his mouth. Grinning at the revolted expressions on his fellow hunters' faces, Dean finally swallowed, before dabbing almost demurely at his mouth with a napkin.

"You have any luck down with the town clerk?" he asked, his brow furrowing as Jo tossed a paper file down between the two brothers and waited for them to open it.

"I'm not sure, really," Jo replied, pausing to take a healthy bite of her burger. She chewed quickly and with a thoughtful expression in place, whilst Sam waited for her to finish.

"You're not sure?" Dean prompted, decidedly less patient than his brother, who shot him a frown.

"Well, I ran through every name on that list Wade gave us. I checked birth and death announcements, newspaper articles, and property listings. I came up with one story from almost ten years ago about a woman named Deidre Chester," Jo explained, swatting Dean's hand away as he moved towards her fries for a second time.

"Did she discover the Fountain of Youth?" Dean joked, swatting back at Jo before deftly snatching up more fries with his other hand, earning himself a glare and a pout simultaneously. With a grin, Dean reached across and popped one of the pilfered fries into Jo's mouth as a peace offering.

"No…" Jo replied between mouthfuls of food, "she was airlifted out of the local forest when she got lost hiking and broke her ankle. Search and rescue were looking for her for nearly 24 hours before she was found near the Hellfire Caves."

"And we care because…?" pressed Dean, leaning back in the booth and casting an obviously bored glance around the diner.

"I also looked into a Paulina Ibarra. She made quite a name for herself a couple of years back as a local landscape artist. She toured the state with a small exhibition of paintings of areas of outstanding natural beauty, over half of which were pictures of the Hellfire Cave systems and the surrounding woodland."

"Coincidence," Dean said immediately, dismissal evident in his tone and also demeanour.

"I'm not done yet," Jo answered, smiling in triumph as she slipped a black and white photograph from the file and pushed it into the centre of the table. "Recognise the bride?"

Dean squinted at the poor quality newspaper print, and the smiling face of Nancy York beamed back at him. She appeared to be clad in some kind of expensive skirt suit and a hat complete with a short veil was perched on top of her ridiculously quaffed hair. Next to her, almost hanging off her arm for support, was a frail looking old man wearing a tuxedo and grinning inanely at the camera. The couple appeared to be posed in front of an outcropping of rocks.

"Nancy and her sixth husband, Roger, on their wedding day back in 2008," Jo stated, "they married in Hellfire Caves, and Roger passed away three months later from pneumonia, leaving Nancy with a sizeable fortune to add to her already sizeable fortune."

"So wait… she was on husband number what when she met Wade?" Dean asked, his nose wrinkled in confusion, "dude said she was a widow."

"She can't seriously have outlived six husbands," Sam stated incredulously, snatching up the photo and holding it up for closer inspection.

Jo took another sip of her beer before she repeated the information she'd managed to compile, "Husband number one died of a heart attack in 1950, seems he was a good few years older. Unlucky number two died in Korea. Number three skipped state with his secretary in the early 60s; the town newspaper gossip column was all over _that_ little scandal…"

Pausing to chew on a French fry, Jo quickly swallowed, "Number four died of natural causes, leaving her with a pretty hefty inheritance. Number five was another divorce; seems he traded her in for a younger model."

Dean suddenly held up his hand to pause her, "A younger model? When was that?"

Jo shrugged, "Uh… the late 70's I think… maybe early 80's?"

Dean tapped his finger on the table thoughtfully as both he and Sam exchanged glances, "Which would be around the same time our pal Wade started working for her, right?"

"Yeah? So?"

"Well, if I know how women think…" Dean ignored Jo's amused scoff, "she's got a score of older, dead husbands, two who left her for a younger chick…"

Sam narrowed his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief, "Dean, you don't seriously believe she managed to find the Fountain of Youth?"

"I'm not saying it's the Fountain of Youth exactly," Dean said in a hushed voice, looking to the side to ensure that nobody could be eavesdropping, "but maybe something like it. I mean, you saw her, Sammy. For a woman who's gotta be eighty plus change, she's a cougar."

"Nice, Dean," Sam replied, shaking his head in disdain as he peered across the table at his brother. Jo seemed only amused, and Sam supposed that was a testament to her faith in his brother and the strength of their relationship.

"Hey, I'm not saying I would personally, just that she looked younger than Bobby when we all know she should be eating pureed apples and waiting for some orderly to change her diaper," he stated, ignoring the amused snort Jo let out from beside him. "That's not natural, dude."

"Maybe it's witchcraft?" Sam countered, frowning as he re-examined the pile of articles and photographs that Jo had printed off. "I kind of thought Bobby was kidding when he said Wade was babbling on about the Fountain of Youth."

"Well so did I, Sammy, but maybe he's onto something," Dean replied, "we got one location in common here; Hellfire Caves. I say we check it out and see what we find."

"It's not like it would be the first time you guys had run across a mystical fountain," Jo reminded Sam, her grin wide and unwavering as she recalled the story that Dean had regaled her with about the cursed fountain that had granted wishes that eventually turned bad. It was probably one of her favourite tales to hear Dean tell, especially when he got to the part about the giant, suicidal teddy bear. However, she remained unconvinced that much of the story was true.

"I thought you said we were talking about a cave system?" Sam interjected, finally heaving a sigh and reaching across the table to grab a fry from Jo's almost empty basket.

"We are," said Jo, grinning in approval at Sam's uncharacteristically unhealthy choice, "the Hellfire Caves was a serious of three naturally connecting cave chambers until 2001, when a pretty hairy earthquake caused a rock slide that revealed six more chambers. There's been some excavation work done there but aside from some fairly common varieties of snakes and bats, there was nothing else of much interest found. I guess that's why they haven't been turned into some crappy tourist trap."

"That doesn't explain the connection to the Fountain of Youth," Sam scoffed, the name tasting bitter and absurd on his tongue.

"No, but this might," Jo answered, sliding the wedding photograph back across the table to Sam and tapping the somewhat blurred background immediately behind the figures of Nancy and her late husband. "Right there. It's hard to make out at first."

Sam peered down at the photograph, screwing his eyes half closed in a bid to improve the quality of the image before he finally spotted the article of Jo's interest.

"An underground lake," Sam said, glancing quickly at Jo who nodded.

"Discovered in the very last chamber and thought to lead into an underground river, although nobody knows for sure," Jo stated, obvious pride and satisfaction colouring her tone. She sat back in her seat, folded her arms across her chest, and grinned smugly up at her boyfriend and his brother.

Obviously impressed by her fact checking and information gathering, Dean shot his brother a proud smile

"My devilish good looks, her brains…" Dean hooked his thumb at Jo, "our kids'll rule the world."

Jo laughed, swatting at Dean as he leant in to kiss her, although she relented at the last second and kissed him back with abandon, almost knocking her beer bottle off the table in the process.

"That's a… sobering thought," Sam cleared his throat, averting his eyes as the couple seemed to momentarily forget that a bar full of patrons were staring at them with varying expressions of annoyance, amusement, and resentment.

Dean drew back and swept the back of his knuckles across Jo's cheekbone, his green eyes shining with adoration and just a hint of mischief.

"I guess your looks would be okay too," he murmured through his smirk, earning an eye roll and guffaw from Jo, who nevertheless leant into his touch and pressed a kiss against his hand.

"Guys?" Sam said pointedly, allowing a smile to tug at his lips as he watched Jo slip her arm around Dean's waist and hug him tightly. "Maybe we should get back to the case?"

"Yep. The Case. So, you guys ready?" Dean inquired, looking straight across the table at his sibling as if the next step in their investigation were obvious. Sam frowned, suddenly feeling a sense of dread start to overwhelm him. Whenever that infuriating grin overcame his sibling's features, trouble was guaranteed to be not too far behind.

Waggling his eyebrows, Dean grinned at his younger brother, until realisation settled on Sam's features and the hunter sat back in his seat with a resigned huff.

"The caves," Sam muttered, sighing at the prospect of an underground excursion.

Intercepting the teasing expression Dean was aiming at his sibling, Jo decided to play Devil's advocate, although her own unease at the plan was significant.

"Uh… there are snakes in those caves, Dean-o. You know that, right?" she arched a blonde eyebrow, stealing a moment to take a final swig of beer from the now empty bottle.

Dean swallowed hard but his grin did not waver, neither did his bravado.

"I bet there're spiders too," he whispered, moving his hand in a scuttling motion across Jo's shoulder blade and earning himself a punch in the thigh in the process.

"So, hiking, caves, and the Fountain of youth," Sam said with forced cheerfulness, his expression abjectly terrified as he followed up with, "what could possibly go wrong?"

**x-x-x**

The caves were cooler than Dean had expected and far less claustrophobic than Sam had. Although the three hunters had been forced to bend double in several places to progress through the passageways, the walls were far less enclosed or dank than any of them would have assumed. Since the cave system had never been utilised as a tourist spot, it was above all else dark, and the flashlights the trio carried just barely illuminated the jagged stalagmites that they had to weave their way around. Although Jo had mentioned the various wildlife that frequented the caves, they had not seen sight nor hide of any one of the creatures they had all secretly feared, which had made for a much more pleasant journey than first perceived.

Aside from the occasional whispers of the hunters, the caves were also largely silent, which had been unexpected on Dean's part at least. He had figured that all manner of creepy noises would echo throughout the caverns, and thus he had found himself far more at ease than he had ever thought possible as they pretty much strolled through the system of rocky tunnels and passages.

"Question…" Jo murmured, pausing to step over a particularly large outcropping of rocks that stuck up from the floor at a difficult angle, "what exactly do we do once we find this lake? How do we tell if it _is_… 'special' or something?"

Dean shrugged, "I figured Sammy would come up with that part of the plan. You're forgetting that you two are the brains of this operation, I'm just the brawn and the eye candy."

Jo snorted with laughter, directing her flashlight toward the ground as a particularly uneven patch of rocks started a slow decline into a larger chamber.

"Sam?" Jo called out, swiping at her face as a cobweb tangled in the ends of her hair, and she prayed the architect of said web wasn't lingering anywhere nearby.

Jo smiled as she heard Sam's heavy, almost petulant footfalls behind them.

"I'm… thinking," he replied sourly, annoyed that his brother had negated to inform him of his pivotal role in their afternoon excursion. A slight commotion behind her indicated that Sam too had fallen prey to the billowy cobweb.

The three hunters continued to walk down the stale smelling passageways, until Dean halted suddenly without warning, causing Jo to stumble into him. Jo let out a groan as she ended up wedged between Dean and a rather cramped chamber wall that had sharp, rigid points that were digging into her arm.

"Seriously Dean, a little warning next time?" she snapped tersely, rolling her eyes in exasperation as she felt him press closer against her and his breath ghosted across her ear.

"Aww, come on. Kind of like old times," he taunted, chuckling to himself as he felt her sigh and wriggle free of his grasp, which only succeeded in eliciting a lustful groan of approval from him.

"Yeah, well dark, dank caves aren't exactly on my bucket list. So, keep moving, Winchester," she directed, shuffling forward before she paused to allow the two hunters to catch up with her so they could make their final descent into the larger chamber they knew contained the underground lake.

"Dank?" Dean repeated quietly to himself, shaking his head as he caught up with her, and Sam brought up the rear.

"Map says it should be through there," Sam said, shining his flashlight onto the piece of yellowed paper he had unfurled in his other hand.

"Shhh, what's that?" Jo demanded in a hiss, suddenly holding out one hand to prevent either of the brothers from passing her. She listened intently for a few moments, and sure enough the sound of muffled but boisterous laughter drifted to her ears. Jo groaned inwardly as giggles were joined by telling shrieks, and she realised that they likely had stumbled across a bunch of teenagers who believed they had scouted the perfect make out spot, away from prying parental eyes.

"Great, how are we supposed to do… whatever… with a bunch of kids getting in the way?" she demanded, beginning to tap her foot against the floor as her irritation mounted. Shrugging his shoulders, Dean pushed his way to the front of the group and motioned with a slight incline of his head into the chamber.

"Just follow my lead," he mouthed, before stepping out of the tunnel and into the open cave chamber, where immediately in front of him he spotted a perfectly blue, shimmering lake, and a group of five teenagers seated on the makeshift rocky bank with their toes dangling into the water. Five heads whipped around and intrigued gazes became affixed upon Dean, who did his best to straighten up, puff out his chest, and appear official-looking.

"Can we help you, sir?" a blonde haired boy who was almost as tall and muscular as Dean inquired politely as he rose to his feet. His stance was defensive from the get go and his proffered smile was guarded, and the hunter could not help but admire the kid's guts. A red headed girl leapt to her feet also and came to stand at the boy's side, her pale freckled arms crossed in front of her chest and the hot pink bikini top that she wore above cut off denim shorts. Dean suddenly realised that he could see perfectly and took a moment to switch off the flashlight he presently aimed at the kids' faces. He shot a glance upward to the cave ceiling, which was at least twenty feet above their heads, and realised that significantly sized holes leading to the surface were the source of the natural sunlight streaming into the cave.

"We're with the Forestry Commission," Dean stated in his most authoritative tone, "do you kids have permission to be here? This is private property."

"Actually, sir, this is public land. We have as much right to be here as you, provided we're not causing a nuisance, or damaging the delicate ecosystem of the many protected species that reside here," the same boy replied, continuing to gaze levelly at Dean, who blinked back in surprise at the eloquent and wholly unexpected defence.

Dean's brows knit together in a frown, but he recovered quickly, never one to be outdone in the 'smart ass' stakes.

"Bats," he stated, nodding at the boy as he gestured up toward the ceiling with a wave of his flashlight, "we have reports of rabid bats. They're just, swooping around, foaming at the mouth, getting all… scratchy and gnarly."

He mimed a scratching motion for added effect, and the teenager recoiled back ever so slightly as Dean added, "Nasty, nasty things."

"Rabies?" a second girl shrieked, beginning to scrabble away from the side of the lake, "did he say rabies?"

"Yes ma'am, so if you and your friends would kindly vacate these premises…" he drawled, leaning back ever so slightly as he regarded the five teens in turn.

The boy looked at him evenly and, though his features were clouded with disbelief, he began to pick up his belongings and shrugged on a t-shirt, keeping an eye on Dean the whole time.

"Man, I can't find my phone. My mom will kill me if I lose it!" the third of the girls yelped, running her hands through her long, dark hair as she peered furtively around the cave and began to search the ground around where their towels and blankets had been laid out.

"Whoah, be careful there Miss, that…" Dean began, his eyes widening as the girl lost her footing on a precarious piece of rock, and tumbled backwards into the water.

"Jill!" the red haired girl cried out, frantically running to the edge just as the three hunters reached the side at the same moment. Dean briefly scoured the surface of the water, which had grown worryingly still, not so much as a trace of a bubble or ripple present upon the surface.

Without a second thought, Sam shrugged out of his jacket and leapt into the lake, whilst Dean and Jo held back the two teenage boys in order to prevent them unwisely joining their friend. Sam's head disappeared under the water and time seemed to drag endlessly on until he broke the surface once again a mere metre away from where he had gone under. He sucked in a breath loudly, throwing his head back to fling his hair out of his eyes where it obscured his vision.

"Be careful, Sam!" Jo yelled, watching with her heart hammering in her chest as Sam ducked beneath the water again.

"Help her!" the second boy pleaded, "she can't swim!"

"He's trying, pal," Dean bit back, one arm planted firmly in the centre of the boy's chest to stop him rushing to the water's edge, "just give him some room."

"One of us should be in there!" the blonde boy yelled, aggression shining in his eyes as he glowered at Dean, whose jaw set immediately in reaction.

Jo positioned herself between the boy and the man, her eyes blazing as she stared up at the kid, who was bouncing from one foot to the other in agitation.

"That water is at least fifty metres deep. You jump in there trying to play the hero, and it's your funeral," Jo snarled, her tone leaving no room to negotiate. The boy seemed to deflate at once, stepping back from the side of the lake and peering in earnest out across its surface as he willed Sam to reappear at any moment with his friend.

When a sopping wet Sam emerged further into the centre of the lake seconds later, he barely allowed himself time to take another deep breath before he plunged back into the depths of the water. As the time marched on, Jo felt a sinking realisation in the pit of her stomach, that it was appearing less and less likely that Sam would find the girl at all.

The redhead had begun softly crying and the blonde boy pulled her into his arms to comfort her, his front teeth still worrying his bottom lip as he stared out across the lake. Finally, after another few seconds had elapsed, Sam's head emerged from the water again, and Dean could see that he was struggling to haul something along beside him as he made for the bank.

"I got her…" Sam gasped out, fighting through his own exhaustion and the excessive weight of his wet clothes as he moved slowly but steadily towards the shore. Dean, Jo, and the other teens scrabbled down the rocks and Dean waded waist height into the water in a bid to help Sam pull the girl back up into the cave chamber.

Coughing up water, Sam knelt on the bank, gasping for air as he flicked his hair out of his eyes and watched as Dean and Jo desperately performed CPR on the girl's prone body.

"One… two… three… four…" Jo counted all the way up to fifteen, her jaw set determinedly as she finished another set of chest compressions and Dean breathed twice into the girl's blue lips.

Time seemed to stand still, as Sam eventually climbed to his feet and joined the band of teens who had gathered around the girl to watch, each with tears now tripping their cheeks.

"Come on, Jill, breathe!" the blonde girl pleaded, collapsing into a fit of sobs as Jo paused to once again check for a pulse or other sign of life. Shaking her head, she and Dean swapped places, and they began the cycle of ventilations and compressions once again.

"One of you head up to the surface and call 911," Sam ordered, watching in disbelief as none of the group moved.

"NOW!" he snapped, running his hands through his hair as one of the boys finally came to life to scamper past him and up the corridor, flashlight still in hand.

"Come on, kid," Dean muttered, his clasped hands pushing frantically against the girl's chest in a steady rhythm.

Jo exchanged a helpless glance with Dean as they continued their attempts to save her. Supernatural forces they were used to battling; this was another thing entirely, and it sat firmly outside of their comfort zones.

Another thirty minutes later, and the hunters watched sadly from the cave entrance as the EMT's transported the girl's lifeless body into the back of an ambulance, which took off at speed, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

Seeing the ambulance disappear into the distance, Jo reached for Dean's hand and laced her fingers with his.

"Let's get out of here."

**x-x-x**

Dean had sprung for Pad Thai, hoping that Sam's favourite take out would help to lighten his younger brother's mood and perhaps also lift his girlfriend's spirits in the process. However, the food remained largely untouched in the centre of the table, Jo pushing hers around the plastic bowl it had arrived in with her fork, and Sam having abandoned his after just a few bites. Dean had made it half way through his main course before his own sense of moroseness had managed to overpower his appetite. Although the hunters did not know the girl they had pulled from the lake and attempted to revive, it was the type of situation that played upon the mind, eclipsing all other thoughts and worries by its seriousness. They had no idea if the girl had pulled through, but it had not looked promising when the paramedics had loaded her into the back of the ambulance, strapped to the gurney and intubated.

Try as he might, Sam simply could not get the girl's face out of his mind, and he knew that it would haunt his dreams as soon as he dared to sleep. On top of the irrational guilt he suffered at having been unable to pull the girl from the water sooner, Sam had begun to feel decidedly peaky since arriving back at the motel. His stomach roiled and his head spun, both of which he had at first attributed as side effects of swallowing water and the adrenaline that had pumped through his system.

Finally pushing his chair back from the table, Sam climbed to his feet and indicated the door to the adjoining single bedroom with his thumb.

"Guys, I'm going to call it a night. I don't feel so good," he explained, offering up a small smile to reassure his brother, who instantly leapt to his feet.

"You sure you shouldn't get checked out at the hospital?" Dean pressed, walking by Sam's side as he made his way across the room to the door, "God knows what the hell is in that water."

For a moment, blind panic filled Dean's eyes and he blurted out, "Cholera… you could have Cholera."

Sam consented to a gentle smile, shaking his head as he replied, "It's not Cholera, Dean. I'll be fine by morning. 'Night, Jo."

Jo offered him a tiny nod as she too rose from the table, "Night, Sam."

"Dude, if you need anything, just knock!" Dean directed, his features etched in concern as he watched his brother close the door behind him.

"Wanna see if there's a bad movie on TV?" Dean suggested. Jo bobbed her head in reply then kicked her boots off and sat back against the headboard, waiting for Dean to join her.

Lifting the remote from beside the TV, Dean set his own boots aside and shrugged off his over shirt then he settled beside Jo, who moved into his arms. Dean glanced down at Jo as her arms wrapped tight around his midsection and she rested her head on his shoulder. He dropped a kiss against her temple and pulled her closer, resting his chin on the crown of her head.

"There was nothing we could do, Jo," he said softly, watching her fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt as she appeared lost in thought.

Jo leaned back, catching his gaze and consenting to smile sadly, "I know. I just… she was just a kid, Dean. And what did we even find? Nothing! This entire case is a bust."

His fingers tangled in her hair, and Jo closed her eyes as Dean combed gently through her curls. The couple each released a weary breath, choosing to remain locked in an embrace as the seconds ticked by.

"Okay… so what are we watching?" Jo finally demanded, breaking the silence with her question. She yawned almost immediately after but despite her physical exhaustion, she knew that her mind would not yet allow her to succumb to sleep given the afternoon's events.

Dean began flipping through channels in response, pausing only momentarily to cock his head at a documentary explaining the mating habits of sharks.

"We're not watching a damn shark porno, Dean," Jo stated firmly, although genuine amusement was reflected in her eyes as she glared at her boyfriend, who only shrugged before flicking obediently to the next channel.

"Sharks are amazing creatures," Dean defended himself, shooting Jo a thoroughly irritated glance when she dissolved into laughter in response and slapped his chest.

Fifty cable channels later, and with nothing fruitful to show for it, Dean pressed the TV remote into Jo's hand and gestured to the door.

"I thought I saw a vending machine in the lobby. You want a soda?" he asked, pausing to gather the loose change from the table and sweep it into his jeans pocket. Jo only nodded her head as she continued to play with the TV, and Dean slipped out into the foyer, closing the door behind him with a barely audible click. His handgun was shoved into his back pocket as usual, and Dean's fingers drifted to it for just a second as the sudden chill in the night air caused him to shudder. The hairs at the back of Dean's neck stood erect and, having learned long ago to trust his instincts, Dean peered around the outdoor veranda keenly, searching the distant trees and parking lot shadows for any sign of something supernatural. When he found none, Dean shrugged his shoulders and proceeded to the lobby, deciding against disturbing Sam to ask if he needed anything for a second time.

Jo let out a bored moan as she realised that she had arrived back at the channel she had first started on, and she flung the remote down on the mattress beside her, resolved in part to spending the remainder of the evening watching big fish documentaries with an excitable Dean.

She lay back against the pillows and drummed her fingers on her abdomen as she watched the divers on the screen dangling in a cage surrounded by toothy predators.

"These people are nuts," she remarked, looking up only briefly as Dean returned and placed two soda cans down onto the nightstand.

Flopping next to his girlfriend, Dean reached out and picked up her hand, rubbing his fingers across the back of her knuckles. The diamond band on her finger reflected the light, and he watched it sparkle for a few seconds before he spoke.

"I uh… I heard a couple of folks talking out in the parking lot. Looks like the kid didn't make it," he revealed, watching Jo's frown deepen as she digested the information, as if she had already anticipated the news.

"I figured as much," Jo murmured, reaching out and turning out the lamp on the nightstand beside her, before sagging against the pillows.

Dean nodded, moving carefully across the mattress to join her, his usual exuberance and energy now dampened. He passed the first soda he popped open to Jo, before opening his own and taking a sip of the pleasantly cool liquid.

The couple sat in reverie for a few minutes; each silently contemplating the sad fate of the young girl they had crossed paths with purely by accident. Jo had just rested her root beer down on the night stand when the door to the adjoining room swung open and Sam staggered inside. Dean leapt off the bed so fast he almost fell, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of his brother, who appeared to be bathed in a warm, blue light, the likes of which Dean had never set eyes on before.

Sam stumbled inside the bedroom, gripping the doorjamb with both hands for support, then promptly collapsed. He knocked over a chair and the food that was still sitting on the table scattered all over the floor.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled out, dropping down at his brother's side and peering helplessly at his sibling, who was trembling, great beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

"I… I don't… d-don't… feel… goo-good…" Sam managed to stammer, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he fought to remain conscious against his body's will.

"Should I call 911?" Jo demanded, fear and uncertainty creeping into her tone as she looked frantically from Dean to Sam for direction.

"Sammy, what do we do?" Dean shouted, running his hand across Sam's forehead to check for a fever or any other decidedly human characteristic of illness.

A bright, penetrating light suddenly ebbed from Sam's chest, and he clutched at his torso as he writhed in apparent agony. Seconds later, he lay still and unconscious.

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean yelled, slapping his brother's cheek as he and Jo loomed over Sam with matching expressions of terror tainting their features.

Sam suddenly gasped for breath. He sucked in air greedily and gradually his skin took on a far more natural and healthy colour. His eyes shot open, sending Dean and Jo reeling back on their heels, and his chest heaved as he sat up and to stare blankly around.

"Dude? Are you ok?" Dean asked, looking down worriedly at his brother as the younger Winchester stumbled to his feet and began to flex his hands and arms, staring down with interest at his own limbs.

"Uh… Sam?" Jo began, a mounting sense of trepidation overcoming her as she observed Sam's bizarre behaviour, "are you okay?"

"I… I…Yeah, I feel fine," he replied, bemused, and with an odd smile tugging at his lips as he looked up at Dean with the rosiest cheeks he had seen and an odd sparkle to his skin that made his entire being glow, "I feel better than fine, I feel… awesome."

"Oh… this can't be good," Jo muttered, shaking her head and gnawing at her lip as she stared at Sam.

"Jo, I just said I felt great," Sam replied with a chuckle, rolling his shoulders and grinning at his brother's girlfriend, who continued to frown up at him with a decidedly unconvinced expression.

"Sam, you just collapsed and then started glowing like a freaking firefly," Dean stuttered, shaking his head in disbelief as he watched his brother carefully for signs of ill-being.

"Well, now I feel good," Sam answered, perching on the edge of the mattress and gazing levelly back at Jo and Dean, who both crossed their arms as they returned his stare.

" 'Good' like… the hills are alive with the sound of music, 'good'? Or 'good' like…" Jo paused, swallowing hard before arching an eyebrow at Sam, "Fountain of Youth, 'good'?"

Dean's eyes widened and he turned his head only to regard his girlfriend, who looked equally horrified.

"Oh shi…"


End file.
